Turning the Tables
by JOSTAN
Summary: It's Jim's turn to be the trainer. A follow-up to "Questionable Choices".
1. Chapter 1

"You are out of your gourd. Do you know that?" Jim Reed was pacing the length of the small hospital room which currently housed his partner Pete Malloy. Three weeks after being shot saving Jim and his son, Pete was in no mood to debate the matter in question anymore. The issue being that Pete, as the Chief Training Officer, had decided that Jim would be riding with brand new academy graduate until he, himself, could return to patrol.

"That may be true, but I'm not changing my mind about this. Starting tomorrow morning, you will begin training Larry Kasak to be a cop." That said, Pete returned his attention to something much more pleasant; Jean Reed's latest care package. Several women including Mary MacDonald and Mrs. O'Brian, knowing that Pete had no inclination to eat the food served at the hospital, had taken to sending him home cooked meals; all approved by his doctor.

"Please enlighten me on how I am supposed to do that? I'm just a P2." Police Officer II is the rank an officer achieves at the end of their probation. While it is true that most training officers are P III's, it wasn't unheard of for an experienced P II to be assigned to ride with a rookie. To Pete, this latest "argument" was an example of Jim's tendency to underestimate his skills.

"Do you think that I was a lousy training officer?" Pete paused in his enjoyment of this latest version of soup; it now came with small bits of chicken and vegetables. Someday he hoped to grow up to eat "big boy" meals.

"Of course not! Captain Moore told me that first day that you were the best he had…" Jim hesitated to finish the sentence; he knew that Pete had once again won.

"And?" The older man pinned the younger one with eyes that dared Jim to deny the obvious.

"…and if I listened, I could become one of the best too." Now that Jim was seemingly resigned to his fate, he once again sat down next to the bed. He wasn't ready to give up totally, not yet. "Let's say that I am, it still doesn't mean that I will make a good training officer."

"All I'm asking is that you try." Pete let out a large sigh before continuing; hadn't he finished being Jim's training officer years ago? "Don't look past your first shift with Kasak. Assume that he knows nothing, because he doesn't know a damn thing about how to survive on the streets. Set the rules: know where you are at all times, know how to work the radio, stress the need for him to obey all your orders without question and don't give in to the desire to strangle him."

"Aww, come on Pete, I wasn't that bad." Jim's memory of that day was a more idealized version of Pete's opinion. True, he had run off into the darkness after some teenagers with guns, but he wanted to show his TO how good a cop he was. That was too much for Pete, who burst out laughing.

"I remember exactly what I told Captain Moore that night. Up to and including the fact that the only thing you knew how to do was wear the uniform right." Pete felt no compulsion to let Jim know that Moore, his own training officer, felt the same way about him after one shift. "I promise you that for the first few months, you will end every shift wanting to scream, get drunk or plant your foot in his ass; don't do any of those."

"I'll try to remember that bit of advice." The more Jim thought about their first few weeks riding together, he was glad that Pete hadn't, in fact, kicked him in the seat of his pants. "You really expect me to do this, don't you?"

"Sure, you remember what Moore said. Relax, you'll do fine." While Pete did consider Jim one of the best officers he knew, that last bit was as close as he would ever come to telling him that. Getting too emotional wasn't Pete's style.

O~O~O

Now that Pete was in a regular room, there had been a steady stream of visitors. After weeks of the ICU and the surgical ward, it was nice to have the company. The phone and television weren't bad either. Sally, who was working steady days, would stop in to see him before her shift. She was his first visitor every day; she was also his last. Tonight was no exception. At 8:30, Sally came into his room. Dressed in sweat pants and one of his LAPD t-shirts; he thought she looked beautiful.

"You look tired." Spoken almost simultaneously, they were both right. It had been a long day for both of them. Pete's day consisted of two physical therapy sessions stuck in between a host of visitors. He appreciated all of them but it was tiring to keep up a strong front when you are feeling the level of pain Pete was. He smiled at Sally as he shifted towards the left side of the bed; an invitation for her to join him.

"Did you eat any of your dinner?" Sally lowered the right bed rail and climbed up beside him. She laid her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his good arm around her.

"That depends on what dinner you mean. Did I eat the schlock the dining staff sent up or the homemade tomato soup with rice that Mac brought me?"

"Schlock?" Sally looked up at him with blue eyes that twinkled in amusement. "Where did you get that word from?"

"It's Yiddish; it's a great word." His smile showed a hint of the mischievous youngster he was. "A guy I grew up with had a Jewish grandmother. I learned a lot of _choice _words from him."

"I'm sure you did. Your mother told me some stories about you." Pete could feel Sally's body shaking with pent up laughter.

"When did you talk to my mother?" As far as Pete knew his mother and Sally hadn't gotten off to a good start and things went downhill after that. If they were talking, it might not bode well for Pete's secrecy about his childhood. His father had already told Mac more than Pete wanted anyone to know.

"I called her this morning to let her know how you're doing." Sally pinned him with a look that stated the obvious; Pete should have called her by now. "_One_ of us should."

Pete really had no answer to that accusation; he hadn't yet spoken to his mother since his parents went home, but his father had called him. That fact was proof that something had changed between the two of them. Ever since he left home, the calls came from his mother and included a "your father says hello" message. Who would have thought that getting shot would bring him and his father closer?

"Now you saved me from having to call her. Thanks." Pete flashed Sally a very cheesy grin while tightening his arm around her shoulder. "Was it busy in the ER today?"

"Have you ever seen a day that it wasn't? We had one kid, a three-year-old girl, with a ball bearing stuck in her ear canal. Apparently her older sister dared her to see if it would fit. Kids!"

"Don't you know that you have to accept a dare? I wouldn't have stolen my father's car and flipped it on its side if Sean hadn't dared me to race against him." Pete could laugh at that escapade now, but it sure wasn't funny when his father grounded him until he was thirty-five. Technically, Pete was still grounded.

"You stole your father's car on a dare?" The expression on Sally's face was priceless; eyes wide, mouth hanging open. "I can't believe it; you're a cop."

"_I wasn't then. _I was, however, young and stupid. The emphasis being on stupid." Racing cars on a dark country lane wasn't one of Pete's smarter moves. At least Sally was laughing. Then she was snuggling closer, one hand playing with the rust colored hairs on his chest.

"Ahem. What are you doing?" Pete was smiling; after all, the sensation of having her fingers brushing his chest hair was pleasant.

"You can't be that medicated. Isn't it obvious?" She was grinning mischievously as she inched higher on the bed, letting her body brush against his.

"Yes, you're teasing me and you know it." He might be stuck in a hospital bed, but kissing was still possible. Both of them needed the closeness; it had been too many weeks since they were able to do more than a peck on the cheek or hold hands in the dark. Nurses came and went; changing IV meds, taking vitals and giving Pete his doses of morphine. No one said a thing about Sally and Pete being in bed together. It wasn't the first time the staff had seen couples taking what comfort they could in the close confines of a narrow bed.

O~O~O

Jim approached the station's door with all the hesitation of a fourth grader heading for the office of the principal. Despite Pete's reassurances, he still doubted that he was up to the task of training a rookie. The fight he had with Jean over it didn't help; someone had told her that riding with a rookie was more dangerous than being alone in a squad car. Jim couldn't deny that fact. He remembered how many times Pete purposely put himself in danger to keep Jim safe. Pete had brushed off every thank you Jim offered; he said it was part of the training officer's job. Now Jim was one and that scared the hell out of Jean and, to a lesser degree, Jim.

He saw one possible "out" of the situation. Pete couldn't be convinced to change his mind, but Mac might be willing to pass the kid off to another officer. It was a slim chance; which officers were assigned to a rookie was Pete's call, not Mac's. Jim jauntily tapped on the door of the watch commander's office, entering when Mac waved him in.

"Reed, I'm glad to see you. Odds were that you would call in sick to force Kasak onto another training officer." The sergeant was smiling but there was a bit of truth to his statement.

"Uh, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can you assign him to Sanchez or Woods instead of me?" Mac casually noticed that Jim was shifting nervously.

"No, for two reasons: first they are each getting their own rookie to train; second Pete would take my head off if I over-ruled him on this." Like Pete, Mac felt that Reed was more than qualified to become a training officer. Plus, he had way too much respect for Pete to question his decision.

"Maybe I should talk to the Ca…" Jim broke off his suggestion when Mac stood, placed both hands palms down on the desk and leaned towards him.

"Even the captain will not over-rule Pete on this. Now go get ready for roll call. I'll introduce you to Kasak afterward." MacDonald was putting all his authority into his voice; warning Jim against continuing his opposition to his new role.

Reed wanted to say something sarcastic about all the help Mac was giving him, but he wisely left the office and made his way to the locker room. The usual characters were there; Wells was telling a war story, Brinkman complaining about wasting time in court and Grant trying to convince Brady to start riding a motorcycle instead of working with Wells. Scattered among the shift's regular officers were three new faces. If he had more time, Jim would have sought them out to welcome them while also determining which one was Kasak.

Roll call was starting as Jim stepped into the room. Rather than disturbing the briefing, he took a seat next to Walters in the last row.

"Mac told me that you are going to be training one of the rookies." There was a slight chuckle to his tone. "You look more nervous than they do and they're on display." It was then that Jim realized that no one other than the three rookies were seated in the front row.

"Relax Junior." That's what Pete told him last night, but how could he relax? One of those young men would be depending on him to protect them while also training them to survive on the streets. "Dammit Pete, I can't do this."

Walters leaned closer to Jim. "Did you say something to me?" Jim shook his head and turned his attention to the sergeant.


	2. Chapter 2

Jim's ears turned bright red when Captain Moore came into the briefing room and took a seat next to him. Normally, when the Captain came into roll call, it was to address the entire watch. This time, Moore sat silently by Jim but there was a smile on his face. Had Pete gotten Moore to do that? Jim wouldn't put it past his partner to conspire with the captain to insure that Jim couldn't back out of training Kasak.

"Come on Reed. You have a rookie to meet." Moore stood as Mac dismissed the watch; effectively blocking any avenue of escape. It was at that moment, that Jim knew he had to get Pete back for this.

"Um…yes Sir." Despite having partially raised the possibility of appealing to the captain, Jim was still hesitant to speak to Val Moore. Pete never seemed to hesitate to approach the Captain, but Moore had been his training officer; either that or Pete wasn't intimidated by higher ranking officers the way Jim was.

"I'm sure he's as eager to meet you as you are to meet him." The captain stepped to the side and, with a wave of his hand, pointed Jim to the front of the room where Kasak was waiting with MacDonald. Jim was even more unnerved when he realized that Moore was directly behind him matching him step for step. Jim wasn't sure, but he thought he heard the captain chuckling as they walked to the front of the room. That was it; Jim was going to strangle Pete.

Jim extended his hand to Kasak in a gesture of welcome. What else could he do? Jim knew he had lost the battle over the rookie. Introductions finished, Captain Moore, pulled Jim to the side for a moment.

"Reed, I know you are not exactly looking forward to training Officer Kasak, but it is time. You were trained by the best; pass on what he taught you." Was he telling Jim to let go of Pete and their partnership? Something in Moore's demeanor made Jim believe that the captain didn't expect Pete to be able to return to patrol. He sent up a silent prayer that Moore was wrong.

"Let's go. I'll get the keys to the unit while you sign the shotgun out from the kit room. Meet me in the parking lot."

"Yes Sir." The twenty-two year old rookie agreed, but made no move towards the door. He had that "deer in the headlights' look about him. "Um…Sir, where is the kit room?"

As Jim very patiently gave the rookie directions to the kit room, he heard Mac's attempts to stifle a laugh. Once Kasak stepped away from them Jim turned back towards the sergeant.

"_Thanks_ for all your help Mac; this is going to be a _boatload of fun_." Mac couldn't keep the laughter inside; if Pete hadn't taught Jim everything he knew about being a police officer, he succeeded in refining Reed's understanding of sarcasm.

Jim was heading out the station door when Chris Collins from the a.m. watch caught up to Jim and handed him a box of flares; apparently Adam-12 was almost out of them. A part of Jim enjoyed handing the box of flares to Kasak as they headed for the car. He made sure to say please carry them, unlike Pete who used to hand him things with a "here Junior".

Reed tossed Kasak the keys to the unit; telling him to put the helmets and other stuff in the trunk. The rookie caught the keys, grabbed Jim's helmet and opened the trunk. Afraid of dropping something and getting off on the wrong foot with his training officer, Kasak set the shotgun on the bottom of the trunk. It was only after closing the trunk that he realized that the shotgun was still in it.

"Where'd I put those keys?" Kasak was muttering to himself, but Jim heard him and moved towards the back of the unit to search the ground for the missing keys. It took Jim thirty seconds to come to the obvious conclusion.

"Please tell me that you didn't lock them in the trunk." Kasak turned beet red; confirming Jim's assumption. "What about the shotgun? Is that in there too?"

"Yes sir. I'm sorry." Jim took a deep breath; letting it out with a large sigh. They weren't even in the car yet, but Jim knew then that Pete was right; he would definitely want to strangle the kid before this shift was over. "There's a spare set of keys in the station. Come on, we'll get them. "

Their attempt to keep the fact that they needed a new set of keys quiet was thwarted by the presence Officer Findley in the watch commander's office. Mac looked up from the report he was checking and waved Jim and Kasak into the room. "Reed, why aren't you out on the street already?"

"I uh… well you see Sir...I kind of…" To his credit, Kasak did try to tell MacDonald what happened to the keys; instead he stammered and his ears became as red as his face.

"The keys accidently got locked in the trunk." It was a gallant attempt by Jim to spare the rookie any more embarrassment.

"They did? You wouldn't mind telling me how you managed to do that?" Mac addressed the question to Reed, even though he knew it had been the rookie's fault.

"It just happened Mac. I'll get them and bring the spare set back in."

"Nah, you better keep the spare keys; you might need them later." The two younger officers were still in sight when Mac and Finley burst out laughing. For a police station, it had amazing acoustics; the echo of their laughter filled the hallway. Jim knew one thing for sure; the entire watch would know about the keys before the shift was over.

"Ignore them, even they make mistakes." Once they retrieved the first set of keys, Jim put the rookie though the safety check Pete always did before a shift. Reed felt a tinge of something he couldn't name when he told Kasak to put his hat in the back because the roofs were too low. Even though Jim didn't give Kasak the car specs speech, in his head he did hear Pete's introduction to the squad car. "Assume they know nothing", wasn't that what Pete had said?

"Clear us. Hold down the button and say 1 Adam-12 Day Watch clear." Since Jim was stuck with this assignment, he figured that he might as well be civil about it. He'd been remembering his first night as a genuine police officer; Pete had been sullen, condescending, acerbic and angry at the world. Would he be that way if his partner had just been killed? Jim never wanted to find out what that was like; Three weeks ago he'd come way too close to losing his partner and best friend.

"Yes Sir. 1 Adam-12. Day Watch clear." Kasak never took his eyes off Reed; silently seeking Jim's approval.

"That was perfect, but you are still holding down the button. Let it go so dispatch can answer." Hadn't the kid used a walkie-talkie as some point in his life?

"1 Adam-12 clear and a call; see the woman 415, in the courtyard, 2318 Vista Way, 1 Adam-12, code 2"

"1 Adam-12 roger." Jim noticed that the rookie's hand was shaking as he put the mic down. Was he scaring Kasak as much as Pete had scared him?

"Relax; at least it's not an armed robbery." Pete never talked on the way to a call and while Jim was fine with that, for now though, things were different. "If you don't know where that street is, look it up. We'll be there soon."

"Yes Sir."

"Don't call me sir; call me Reed. Jim smiled the smile people have on their face when they are remembering something special. At the time it was happening, being called Junior, boot and kiddo by Pete irked him; now it was a melancholy memory.

"Yes Sir. Everyone but my family call me Kasak." Jim sighed at the continued use of "sir".

Jim pulled up in front of the apartment complex. It was typical sixties architecture; a set of four two-story buildings around a built-in pool. They were getting out of the unit when what looked to be a thirty-something woman with two young girls in tow ran towards the car. She grabbed Kasak by the right arm, trying to pull him into the courtyard.

"Officer, please come. It's disgusting. I don't want my girls seeing that." She wasn't having much luck with Larry, who stood by the car; unsure what he should do.

"Excuse me Ma'am. I'm Officer Reed this is Officer Kasak. What is the problem Miss…?"

"Hayes, Mrs. Ronald Hayes." If Kasak had weighed less, he would already have been dragged along the ground towards the courtyard.

"Mrs. Hayes, please release Officer Kasak. We will follow you, but you haven't told us what the problem is." Both Kasak and Reed had been listening for any sign of trouble, but only heard the sound of kids playing.

"There are naked boys by the pool, right in front of my little girls!" She reeked of indignation. Neither officer thought that the girls seemed upset by the boy's display. In fact they kept trying to get another glimpse of the naked young men. Jim tried to keep from chuckling, knowing that Mrs. Hayes was going to have a lot of questions to answer when she got the girls home.

"Sir? She's right." Kasak had moved to a spot where he could see the pool in the courtyard. There were five boys around the age of 13, doing cannonballs into the deep end of the pool.

"Come on." Jim led the way to the deep end of the pool. "Okay boys, the fun is over. Get out, grab a towel and wrap yourself in it." Experience had long ago taught Jim that you need to be very specific when dealing with the public. The boys did exactly as they were told; wrapping a towel around their untanned body parts. Jim gave them a lecture about not being naked in public and sent them all home. Mrs. Hayes, who wanted the boys arrested, began to yell at the officers. Jim handed her his card and told her to call the watch commander.

Wednesday mornings were not known for being busy and so far, this shift lived up to that reputation. Jim used the time to show Kasak the district; pointing out the highlights and trouble spots. He also found out more about his rookie. Larry was twenty-two, single, grew up in Wyoming and not at all interested in the prospect of marriage. Without knowing the other two rookies, Jim couldn't decide if they all felt that way or if Pete thought it would be funny to stick Jim with a confirmed bachelor. It would also drive Jean nuts; she had made it her mission to get the still single Pete married. Larry didn't know what he was in for.

When they were in the middle of Sherman Way, Jim pulled the unit to a stop and turned to Kasak. It was time for another lesson.

"Larry, without looking can you tell me our location." Jim remembered how embarrassed he felt when he couldn't tell Pete where they were. At least he had been able to figure out the street, but was stumped on the block or a cross street. That was when he received his first lecture from Pete; stressing the importance of always knowing your location. Larry didn't do much better.

"If you don't learn anything else from this shift, learn this: Always know where you are. Things, bad things, happen in the middle of the block. If the worst happens and people are getting shot, there is no time to run back to the corner to check the street name. Dispatch cannot send help if they don't know where you are." Jim paused to let Kasak absorb that before he proceeded. "Once you are familiar with the district it will become easier. While I'm at it, treat this unit with respect. It will protect you, shelter you and work with you; it's your life insurance…and mine."

"Yes sir. I'll do better." The kid was eager to learn, but being called "sir" was irritating Jim. Once more, he told the rookie to call him by his name. It was going to be a long day.

"1 Adam-12, B.O. traffic light, intersection of Leland Way and Comstock, watch commander requests that you direct traffic, 1 Adam-12 handle code 2"

Instantly, Jim's back stiffened and his grip on the steering wheel tightened; Leland Way and Comstock was an intersection that Pete tried to avoid while on patrol. Neither Pete nor Jim needed a reminder of what happed there two years prior. Kasak could feel the tension in the car rise. After acknowledging the call the rookie couldn't help but ask Jim about his reaction.

"Bad memories, I almost died there." The clipped tone of Reed's response temporarily stopped Kasak from asking the question he was dying to ask. Maybe Jim would tell him later.

Jim purposely parked in front of the bank; he would not let those memories keep him from doing his job. As he got out of the car, Jim decided that this was a perfect training opportunity; the intersection was clogged with cars all trying to get around other stopped cars.

"Okay, Larry, it's time to put that academy training to good use. Why don't you give it a try?" Jim smiled at the rookie, who got the impression that his training officer was going to enjoy watching him. The fact that Reed was leaning back on the hood of the unit, arms crossed against his chest didn't instill the rookie with confidence. Kasak did manage to reach the middle of the intersection and made an attempt to unsnarl the traffic jam. If the number of horns honking was any indication, they clearly were not thrilled with the rookie's work. Jim remembered the first time he tried to direct traffic and failed. He also remembered the unkind thoughts he had when Pete leaned against the hood of the car and laughed at him. It was five minutes before Pete took over and calmly taught him how to get the traffic moving. By Jim's watch, it was time to help the kid out. Forty minutes later Kasak was doing a pretty good job of keeping the cars moving. For the next two hours, the two officers alternated between directing traffic and sitting in the shade watching.

Both men were hot, tired and hungry. Taking "seven" seemed to be the answer to all three problems. Jim picked up the mic and requested seven at the corner of Burbank and Lankershim.

O~O~O

A plate of unidentifiable meat, sticky rice, mushy carrots and a glass of apple juice were worse than the breakfast the aide brought to him. That was all the encouragement needed for Pete to push the food tray away from the bed. He considered the flash of pain that resulted from the movement to be worth it. Even so, Pete had to close his eyes and gasped for a breath. He was so tired of being in pain, but according to his doctor, that wasn't going to change soon.

"Pete Malloy, are you supposed to be moving around like that?" She was back.

"Hello to you too." Pete opened one eye; after all, he didn't need two eyes to know that Mrs. O'Brian had entered the room. "Did you bring food?"

"You know I did, but first things first." Mrs. O'Brian grabbed the call bell, pushing hard on the red button. "You are in pain. Do you have a fever?" Using his good arm, Pete blocked her attempt to feel his forehead for a fever.

"I do not have a fever and I don't want pain medication yet." Pete took the call bell from Mrs. O'Brian to cancel the request for a nurse, but the button didn't have a "never mind" option.

"Nonsense, you are in pain; even I can see that." Suddenly there was a soft, steady beating sound. Pete burst out laughing; Mrs. O'Brian was tapping her foot on the floor. The old woman was not known as a patient person. "Pete, hand me that buzzer so I can call the nurse again."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

No!

It had been over two decades since Pete had played "Keep Away" but he was much better at it that Mrs. O'Brian was.

"Are you two having fun?" This was definitely one of the weirdest things the nurse had seen in years. Mrs. O'Brian was now pulling on the call bell's cord while Pete kept a death grip on the button. The old woman let go of the cord and turned on the kindly nurse, who had brought a syringe with her.

"Where have you been? He's in pain."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are Pete; I can see it in your eyes.

"How about letting me decide if I want the pain medication?" Pete didn't like the way the morphine made him feel. That's why he was overdue for his next dose.

"Sorry Pete the doctor's orders say that it's time for a dose of morphine." The nurse slowly injected the drug into Pete's IV port. Despite his claim of not being in pain, both women saw the tension leaving Pete's body. "Now, please do not agitate my patient. If you keep it up, I will call security to escort you from the building.."

Mrs. O'Brian knew a true threat when she heard one. She kept quiet while she unpacked the bag she brought with her. Before she left, the nurse took a sniff. "What smells so good?"


	3. Chapter 3

Burbank and Lankershim, Jim had chosen this restaurant without much thought. This was where he had his first dinner as a full-fledged policeman; where he learned that Pete was quitting that night. Over the years they rode together, Jim occasionally wondered where both of them would be today, if they hadn't made a connection. What kind of a cop would he be without Pete's guidance? Who could he count on to be there for his family if the worst happened? Would he even be alive if Pete hadn't been around to watch his back? Also, what would have happened to Pete it he did resign?

The forty-five minutes allotted for lunch seemed to slide by. During which, Jim related the tale of his visit to the bank at Leland Way and Comstock; Kasak hanging on his every word. Jim left out most of what happened in the bank, preferring to focus on Pete's heroics. Larry met Pete when he was helping out the shooting instructor at the academy, but didn't know much about him. Early on in the shift, he had confessed to Jim that Pete terrified him. Jim laughed, telling the rookie that he wasn't alone in being afraid of Malloy.

After Kasak cleared them, Jim launched into the topic of safety. He stressed the need for Kasak to obey all his orders without question; how dangerous it was to go off on your own before you are ready.

"My training officer would have had my butt in a sling if I took off half-cocked. Whatever reason you might have isn't a good enough reason." Actually, when Jim ran off that first night, Pete was so mad that he looked like he was considering using the shotgun he was holding. It was a few years later that Pete admitted that the presence of witnesses had saved Jim. That and the fact that there is "too much paperwork involved when you shoot your rookie" also factored into Pete's somewhat restrained response.

"What if I run after someone I think might be getting away? Shouldn't I try and catch them?" The kid was a typical rookie; eager, anxious, innocent and stupid.

"Don't think. It's when you start thinking before you're supposed to think that you think yourself dead." Pete had told that to him on their first night together. Why not quote the expert?

"At the Academy they…." One look at the expression on Jim's face was enough to cut off whatever Kasak meant to say.

"The lessons taught at the Academy and in the street are very different. One is law and procedures and the other is survival." Deep down, Jim knew that being told this once wasn't going to be enough; it hadn't been enough for him but he had to try. Kasak needed to learn this lesson; if he didn't, he could end up being killed.

"I promise I won't run off." It was an earnest promise. One Jim was sure Kasak would forget in the excitement of a call; they all do. Was that how Pete's last partner was killed? As much as he wanted to know what had happened in that warehouse, it was the one thing Pete never talked about. Out of respect for Pete, no one ever mentioned Andrew Baxter

"Yes, you will. I did, twice, and I almost learned my lesson the hard way." Jim and Pete had been partnered for about three weeks when they stumbled upon a drug deal in progress. The two men split up and Pete went after the dealer. Jim's orders were to radio for back-up and stay put, but the buyer was still in sight. "I went after the buyer instead of staying with the unit. I followed him over a tall concrete barrier. The guy was waiting for me on the other side and I froze. All I could see was that gun pointed at my chest. That's when Pete showed up."

"You're lucky he found you. Was he mad?" Kasak was eager to hear all the details; this was the kind of cautionary tales cadets heard at the academy. Some cadets thought those stories were made up to scare them.

"Mad? He was spitting nails." Jim could laugh at it now, but at the time, he was sure that Pete was going to recommend that he be dismissed. "Pete yelled at me for fifteen minutes; talk about being terrified. I was sweating down to my socks."

"Did that happen a lot?"

"What, getting yelled at by Malloy? He didn't usually raise his voice, but, yeah I got a lot of very strong lectures." Pete was the only person Jim knew that could yell at you in a whisper.

"No. Did he save your life more than twice?" There was an under-current of worry in the young cop's voice; would Jim be there for him?

"I lost count of how many times Malloy pulled my bacon out of the fire. It's part of the TO's job." Jim hadn't voiced the fear that he wouldn't be able to keep Kasak safe; though it was there.

O~O~O

"Take a look at that." Jim was pointing towards a teenage girl on a bicycle that was coming their way. "I don't believe it."

"How is she doing that?" Kasak's voice echoed the amazement in Jim's. They watched as she made a perfect turn onto a side street, without using her hands. She couldn't hold on to the handle bars because she was carrying an ice cream cone in each hand. "Are we going to stop her?"

"I suppose we have to; even if she is the best bike rider I've ever seen." How to stop her was the problem. Jim didn't want to startle her by using the siren or horn and he didn't think she would notice the reds if he turned them on. "I'll pull the car up beside her and you tell her to pull over to the curb." Both officers were laughing at the sight. Not only was she carrying two cones, she was calmly licking rainbow sprinkles off the one in her right hand.

"Ah…Miss, would you please stop riding so we can talk to you?" For some reason, Kasak was starting to blush. This wasn't the kind of caper he had dreamed of when he applied to the police academy. The girl nodded, put her left hand on top of the handle bar and slowly brought the bike to a stop; careful not to drop either cone in the process.

"This one is all yours." Jim wanted to see how the rookie was going to deal with this problem. This was another thing that Pete hadn't taught him how to deal with.

"Why did you stop me? If I don't get to my cousin's house soon, her cone will melt all over my hand." She ran her tongue along the top edge of her cone; catching some of the sprinkles before they dropped to the ground.

"We stopped you because it isn't safe to ride a bike no handed while eating an ice cream cone. You could get hurt." Kasak wasn't even sure there was a law covering this.

"I won't get hurt; I do this all the time. Can I go now?" She put her right foot on the bike pedal; clearly dismissing the young officer.

"We can't let you ride your bike like that Miss…what is your name?" If Kasak was looking for Jim to help him out, he would surely be disappointed.

"Terry Pittman. Oh shoot, the cones are dripping on my jeans. I gotta go." She pressed down on the right pedal and began to ride away. Kasak was running behind the bike yelling at her to stop; Jim couldn't stop laughing. The girl was leaving Kasak in the dust.

"Do you want me to call in a foot pursuit?" Jim had gotten back into their unit and pulled up alongside the still running rookie. Kasak shook his head and continued to chase the girl, who made a left turn at the next intersection. By the time Kasak reached the corner, the girl was nowhere in sight.

"Do we have to report this? I mean, we didn't accomplish anything; she got away." Dejected, Kasak jerked the car door open, tossed his hat in the back seat, slid in and slammed the door shut.

"It happened, didn't it?" Kasak noted it in the log book while Jim performed a circle search in hopes of finding the girl. "Don't worry; my name will be on the report too. Mac Donald can laugh at both of us."

O~O~O

"You would have been right at home during the Spanish Inquisition, do you know that?" Pete was only halfway through his physical therapy session and complaining was his way of diverting his attention from the pain. Nick St. John, today's therapist was working on Pete's right leg; forcing him to bend the knee as much as possible. The wound was healing nicely, but the muscles needed to be stronger in order to support his weight.

"I aced Torture 101 in college. Stretching people on the rack was my specialty." Nick had been treating Pete long enough to not take anything he said personally. He actually found Pete easier to work with than most; despite his griping Pete was motivated by a desire to return to his career.

"I always wanted to be taller. It helps when you can look down at a rookie." Pete took the small barbell that Nick held out to him and started working on his left arm; raising it to his shoulder then back down. It was only two pounds, but it was all that Pete could handle.

"Sorry, I left my rack back home. Perhaps you could try wearing high heels." Nick was using a rolling pin-like device on his leg to help reduce any residual swelling. "Slower Pete, control the lifting."

"I doubt that they sell pumps in my size." Pete grimaced in pain, but he kept on lifting the barbell to his shoulder; until he heard Jean's voice.

"There might be a few available, in a clown shop." She was smiling, but he heard an undercurrent of animosity, perhaps, in her voice.

"We're done for the day. If you can, keep using the weight for another ten minutes." Nick gathered up his things and nodded to Jean as he left. "I'll send the nurse in with your pain meds."

"Tomorrow, can you come _after_ the shot, not before it?" An "I'll try" was the best Pete could get in response.

"Hi Jean, I wasn't expecting you today." He watched as Jean set a package of crackers and a banana on the night stand. Pete thought she would take a seat, but instead she began to pace.

"I wanted to talk to you, without Jim around." There it was again, the serious tone bordering on anger. "It's about Jim."

"Is something wrong with Jim? He seemed fine yesterday." Pete had a feeling where this was going, but decided it was better to wait for Jean to speak; it might not be what he expected. He was still working with the barbell with his left arm.

"He was not fine yesterday! How could you do that to him?" She stopped pacing, spun on a foot and seared Pete with eyes angrier than a horde of bees after you knock over their hive. "You promised to keep him away from harm."

"Do what? Being stuck in a hospital bed vastly limits my capacity to do any harm, to anyone; least of all, Jim." Pete's first thought was that she mad about putting Jim with Kasak, but this anger was way out of proportion. Unconsciously, he was working the barbell faster.

"Do you deny forcing Jim to become a training officer?" Jean had come closer to the bed and was looming over him. Leaning back was not the ideal position to be in when someone was yelling at you; Pete used the bed controls to move himself into a more upright position.

"No, I think it will be good for Jim. It will also help his career." Outwardly, Pete appeared to be calm; the way he was jerking the barbell up to his shoulder and back down proved otherwise.

"It's going to get him killed! You are supposed to be his best friend." In all the years he's known Jean, she had never gone off at him like this.

"Whoa, back up here. How is that going to get Jim killed?" Granted, riding with a rookie is more dangerous than riding with a veteran officer, but Pete could only recall one training officer that got hurt bad enough to retire.

"Isn't it bad enough that he almost died saving your life in that drug raid? Now you want to risk his life again by making him do the most dangerous job on the force?" Pete knew about the problems that Jim and Jean had over Jim saving his life; that he understood, but this?

"Being a training officer is not the most dangerous job on the force. Who told you that it was?" He was certain that Jim did not voice that concern to his wife.

"It doesn't matter who told me. What matters is that you are putting Jim in danger. What about Jimmy? Huh?" Pete was confused; Jim hadn't said anything about fighting with Jean. Had she just heard this today?

"Jean, calm down." He paused to see if she was willing to consider calming down some. She wasn't yelling, so Pete took that as encouraging. "Being a training officer is no more dangerous than riding in an L car. It's certainly not as dangerous as working undercover."

"I'm so worried about him. All I can think of is him getting hurt…ever since…" She left the thought hanging, but Pete knew what she meant. Jim had taken a big risk for him. He could see Jean's thoughts heading towards him risking his life for a rookie.

"Do you really think that I would intentionally put Jim in danger; gamble with his life? Three weeks ago, did I run and hide?" Pete let out a large sigh. The last thing Jim needed was Jean harping on his job again. "In one way, it is harder than being on patrol with a veteran officer. The TO has to teach the rookie how to work the streets and that isn't easy, but every cop on the watch knows who is riding with a rookie. It's an unwritten rule that you back-up those teams if there is even the slightest chance that the call could turn dangerous."

Pete paused, waiting to see if Jean was processing what he was telling her. "Besides, Larry Kasak, like the others, is a veteran; military police. He will watch Jim's back."

"Like you did for your last partner? Where were you when he was killed?" Jean practically spit out the accusation that Pete had failed to protect his former partner. If her intention was to make him feel guilty for Baxter and by extension Jim, what she said had shaken him down to his core. He knew that he couldn't have prevented Andy's death; the investigation into the shooting had cleared Pete of any responsibility for it. Still, a part of him would always feel some guilt.

"That's not fair. You have no idea what happened to cause his death. How dare you accuse me of failing Baxter?" Pete kept a tight grip on the barbell he had been using, fighting the urge to throw it at something or someone. Both of them were losing their tempers and, as a result, were yelling.

"If Jim gets killed, will it matter how it happens?" Nothing Pete could say would change her perception that he had put Jim in danger. He cursed whoever made her think he did.

"Being a training officer is not going to get him killed!" Pete hurled the small barbell at the foot of the bed; adding a loud thunk to the mix.

"You don't know that!"

"I would never put Jim in a job he couldn't handle!"

"You're doing it now and you can stop it!

"I can, but I won't do that."Don't you have faith in Jim?"

"Quiet! You are disturbing the other patients." Neither of them had seen the nurse enter. Although they stopped yelling, both were visibly breathing hard and glaring at each other. Clearly, this would not be the end of their argument.

"I think you better leave. Pete doesn't need this right now." The nurse intentionally got between the two of them. She stood facing Jean, arms crossed in front of her chest; an unmovable barrier.

"This isn't over." Jean had lowered her voice, but it still dripped anger and insinuation. With one last glare, she grabbed the banana and crackers, taking them with her.

Pete had never seen Jean do something out of spite, but taking back the food, was certainly spiteful.


	4. Chapter 4

"What was that all about?" Pete looked up when he heard Captain Moore open the door. To say that Pete wasn't in the right frame of mind to switch gears and talk to his former training officer would be an understatement.

"That was Jean Reed leaving." He was still sitting up straight and not doing a very good job of hiding the fact that it was causing him pain. Pete reached for the bed controls and began to move into a more comfortable position.

"I could see that." Moore knew better than most how reluctant Pete was to use pain medication; he understood but at the same time, he knew that not using it could set back Pete's recovery. "When did you have your pain meds last?"

"I don't know. Time seems to run together when I'm in here." Pete, who had a protective hand over his stomach, attempted to take it off without Moore noticing.

"I saw that. Are you going to call for the nurse, or should I do it?" There was definitely an air of command in that question; they both knew it. Pete raised his hand in a gesture of surrender and Moore pushed the call button. He waited until after the nurse gave Pete his pain shot before going back to his initial question.

"Mrs. Reed seemed a little perturbed about something. Do you care to elaborate?" The fact that Moore had yet to take a seat was a clear signal that the captain's question wasn't rhetorical in nature.

"It's personal Skipper; just a misunderstanding." The attempt at evasion would most likely fail, but it was worth a shot.

"That woman was angry and so are you." Pete wasn't even aware that he was banging his fist on the bed rail until Moore tapped it with his finger. "I've known you too long to miss such an easy signal."

"She's mad that I forced Jim to become a training officer." At Moore's urging Pete gave the older man an abbreviated version of his conversation with Jean; leaving out the part about Baxter. "She'll calm down, eventually." It was spoken without much conviction.

"And…?" Moore paused, waiting for Pete to tell him the rest of what happened. He had walked in unannounced and caught Pete in an unguarded moment. Pete was well known for his ability to hide his feelings, but Moore knew Pete before he perfected that stoic front. Whatever Jean said had unnerved Pete. "I know you're not just angry. C'mon Fox, what else did she say?"

"That I was failing to protect Jim like I failed to protect Andy." It wasn't word for word, but the meaning of her accusation was clear; Andy Baxter's death was Pete's fault. He sat in the bed, staring at the wall instead of looking at his friend. Moore sighed; reaching out to rest a hand on Pete's shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault. You know that." Normally, Pete would have pulled away from Moore's reassuring touch; the fact that he didn't showed how much what Jean said had hurt Pete. "Surely Reed must have told her what happened."

"No." Pete still couldn't look Moore in the eye. "I've never even said his name to Jim; much less tell him how Andy died."

"That was almost five years ago. Don't you think it's time that you explained it to him; especially now that he is training his own rookie?" He wasn't surprised that Pete had never spoken to Jim about Baxter's death. What happened had almost destroyed Pete.

"How can I Val, when I can't explain it to myself? I'll never know why he did what he did. Maybe Jean's right." After all this time, Pete was still plagued by "what if's".

"Pete, look at me." Moore waited until he did; obeying orders was so ingrained in Pete that he didn't consider refusing. "Mrs. Reed is not right. Andy was young and impulsive; every cop makes mistakes. It can't be prevented, so all you can do is hope that their mistakes don't cost them their lives."

"Explain that to my conscience or to his widow and daughter. Would he be alive if someone else had been his training officer?" Pete's hand shook as he reached up to run his fingers through his hair. Feelings wise, Jean brought that day back in vivid detail and, in that moment, he hated her for it.

"Pete, we rode together for seventeen months, how many times did you go off on your own?" Moore wondered if Pete actually remembered all the times he disobeyed orders to play a hunch. Piercing blue eyes held Pete's attention; daring him to deny it.

"A lot more than Andy did." Pete's response held a bit of laughter in it. He had taken too many risks during his rookie year. That didn't stop until he got the confidence to express his ideas on how to handle the calls.

"It's human nature; you can't control everything no matter how much you want to. You are no more responsible for Andy's mistakes than I was for yours." Pete shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head; he understood, mostly.

"Tell me, how do I convince Jean to believe that?" How Andy died is something Pete had refused to discuss with anyone besides Moore and Mac Donald; who were both his superiors and his two closest friends at the time. Now he was expected to justify himself to Jean? Pete wasn't sure he could do that.

"That I can't do, but I can maybe take your mind off it." Moore flashed a wide grin as he set a pile of folders and a manual on the nightstand. "Since you have all this time on your hands, I brought you this month's training reports and….the manual so you can study for the sergeant's exam."

"_Thanks a lot_ Val." He didn't mind working on the reports; that was part of his job, but studying for the sergeants' exam? By mutual agreement, he didn't protest studying and Moore didn't push the issue.

The captain stayed for another twenty minutes, discussing Pete's recovery, the book he was reading and anything but Baxter. Val had done all he could on that front; it was up to Pete, Jim and Jean to work it out.

O~O~O

"You have to be grateful for the little things in this job. After all, she only swore once." The look on Larry's face was priceless when the prim and seemingly proper old woman accepted the ticket with a "piss-off officer".

"It's only a five dollar parking ticket." Almost every other day, Adam-12 was being dispatched to ticket cars parked across the street from a recently opened church. With no off-street parking, the residents were constantly complaining about church members parking in the street instead of the parking lot. The problem was about more than the weekend masses; cars showed up for daily masses, bingo and other church functions. Issuing a few parking tickets seemed the perfect opportunity to let the rookie get his feet wet.

For the first six weeks of his rookie year, Jim was under the mistaken impression that writing parking tickets was the sole responsibility of the officer riding shotgun. If he hadn't seen a senior officer writing a parking ticket, Jim might never have found out that he had been had. When he called Pete on it, the senior officer grinned and said "busted".

Jim sighed as he stopped the unit at the fourth red light in row. He had forgotten why Pete hated driving on Ventura Blvd; the stop lights weren't coordinated to allow a decent flow of traffic. If you hit one red light, you hit every one.

It happened right in front of them. A Mini Cooper in the opposite lane floored it and blew through the stop light. The big box truck from the side street didn't see the small car until it was too late. He couldn't avoid broadsiding the speeding car; pushing it into a parked car. Jim hit the reds and told kasak to radio in the accident; requesting back-up and an ambulance.

The truck driver was able to exit the cab without help. He appeared shaken but not hurt; seeing that, Jim ran to the other cars. The force of the impact had crushed the Mini Cooper. It didn't take a doctor to see that neither the driver nor the passenger was still alive. Some things never get easy.

A voice in Jim's head told him to keep the rookie away from the car. Jim had seen other rookies react badly to the first time they saw a dead body; he wanted to spare Larry this one. "Try to get the traffic moving."

Kasak continued to approach Jim and the crushed car, intent on relaying the e.t.a. of the ambulance and back-up. Reed wasn't fast enough to block Larry from seeing inside the car. For a moment, the rookie stared at the couple; it had been an ugly crash. Whether it was the mutilated bodies or the sight of blood, Larry took a step back, looked at Jim and vomited all over his training officer's pristine uniform.

What was it Pete said about strangling a probationer?

Jim looked down at the uniform Jean had gotten up early to iron for him and bit down an angry response. He knew it wasn't Larry's fault; he had thrown up during his first DB call too. Pete had warned him to leave the room before "barfing" because detectives react badly when someone throws up on a crime scene.

Larry had gone to the curb to finish puking into a garbage can while Jim was using his handkerchief to wipe as much of Larry's lunch off his uniform as he could. That was the situation when Mac arrived; he knew he shouldn't laugh, but a small chuckle did escape.

"You know Jim; you really need to work on keeping your uniform cleaner. What would Pete say if he saw you like that?" It was at times like this, when joking seemed inappropriate, that it happened. Call it gallows humor, black humor, whatever. It was a police officer's way of holding onto their sanity.

"He'd threaten to make me ride on the roof rather than let me stink up _his _car." The fact that Pete would actually say that made it all the more laughable.

"Either that or insist that you strip down to your boxers. I'm sure he'd let you use the blanket from the trunk to stay warm." It was obvious that Mac was trying to stay upwind of Jim. "Go take care of your rookie. I'll handle this."

Larry was sitting on the curb, head down as he tried to control the dry heaves. Vomiting on his training officer was the worst part of a very inauspicious first shift; inwardly, he was wondering how he would explain to his classmates that he got fired on his first day. Larry only looked up when Jim got down on one knee and reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Larry nodded, although he continued to tremble; a fact that bothered him.

"I'm sorry Sir. I couldn't help it; those poor people." Larry wipes the tears from his eyes. Why had he cried? It wasn't like he hadn't seen dead people before. "Your uniform is ruined. I don't blame you for being angry."

"Don't worry about it; I'm not angry. Now, my wife might have a different reaction because she's the one who will have to wash it." As much as Jim wanted to put some distance between him and the horrible smell, it wasn't possible without taking off his uniform and tossing it in the garbage. "Every cop I know has thrown up during a shift; especially on your first response to an unpleasant scene."

"But, I was in the army. I've seen dead people before."

"It's different." It was Pete who explained it to him; Jim, a veteran, expected to be able to handle seeing death too. "In the army, in a time of war, you are prepared to see people dying. While it's unpleasant, it's a given; here, death is unexpected. Their deaths are the brutal result of a mistake. That's why it shocks all of us."

"Did you throw up on your training officer?" Larry was embarrassed, dejected and mad at himself.

"No, but there were times I wanted to." The remark got the intended result; Larry laughed. Pete had been hard on Jim when it came to his training; harder than other training officers. His friend's reputation of being a hard-nose on procedure was well deserved. Pete wasn't doing it out of anger though; he had pushed Jim to be the best cop he could be. Was Pete right about him being ready to be a training officer?

"Sergeant Mac Donald is taking over here. Let's go back to the station and get out of these uniforms. Jim held out a hand to help Larry stand up from his perch on the curb. "It's close enough to end of watch that we won't have to go back on patrol. Now you get to learn how to close up the log book and finish the report on the accident."

O~O~O

"Flowers? You're supposed to sneak in some junk food." While Jim was a welcomed sight, something was definitely off; Reed knew Pete's steadfast rule against anyone bringing him flowers. If Jim was….things hadn't been that bad for Jim and his rookie, had they? Remembering his first day with Jim, Pete found the idea of Larry causing problems extremely funny.

"Bad day Partner?" There was no way that Pete could keep a straight face.

"He heaved on me!" Jim set the flowers on the nightstand, right by Pete's head. His partner laughing at him didn't improve his mood.

Heaved?" Pete shrugged his shoulders and flashed Jim a grin; he was enjoying this too much.

"Puked, barfed, vomited, spewed, up-chucked and regurgitated all over my uniform." It wasn't like Jim blamed the kid, but his friend, his partner, knew it would happen at some point.

"All at once, is that even possible?" Pete made an attempt to take this seriously, but he couldn't stop laughing. Jim had never thrown up on him. "Did it not occur to you to get out of the way?" The dark clouds that had been hovering over Pete since Jean's visit were starting to clear.

"No, I thought he'd appreciate a stable target." Jim was a study in exasperation; one arm flung up as he glared at Pete.

"That was nice of you to stand still. Projectile vomiting usually misses a moving target." Yes, Pete knew he was pushing it, but it has been weeks since Pete had this much fun. He brushed aside the curiosity to know why the kid threw up. "How was the rest of the shift?"

"He locked the shotgun and keys in the trunk of our unit. That's how the shift started." Jim was starting to smile; it had been funny, in an annoying way.

Pete didn't want to ruin this moment; there was time later to speak to Jim about Andy, Jean and her accusation.

"Ah, the joys of being a training officer."


	5. Chapter 5

In Jim's opinion, Pete was getting too much enjoyment at his expense; well, his and Kasak's. The old lady, the keys locked in the trunk, the girl on the bike, all made Pete laugh. The reason behind the puking was sobering, but on the whole, Jim's shift was par for the course. The queer look on Pete's face at the mention of Jean having to clean the uniform wasn't missed by his friend.

"Pete, are you alright? You're not in pain are you?" After riding together for five years, the two friends were acutely aware of any mood shifts in the other one.

"No, I'm okay. The pain meds are doing what they're supposed to do." Up until now, Pete had been eagerly eating his latest dinner package; courtesy of Sue Brinkman. Pete had graduated to spaghetti with butter and grated cheese. Now he was pushing the spaghetti around with his fork, but not eating.

"Something is bothering you. Sorry to tell you this Partner, but you are very easy to read when you are on pain medication." Normally, the older man's shifts in mood were subtle clues, ones that Pete could reasonably deny; like tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Not this time.

"I was remembering first shifts; mine, yours and…Andy's." Ever since Val left, Pete had been wondering how to broach the subject. It wouldn't do any good to attack Jean directly, but her accusation couldn't go unanswered.

"Andy?" Apparently, Jim didn't want to admit knowing who Andy was. No one at the station talked about Pete's deceased partner, although at some point, Walters had told Jim his name and that it wasn't Pete's fault. That information came by way of a warning to not ask Pete or anyone else about Baxter.

"Don't…don't pretend that you don't know his name." Pete ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair; until that morning, he had buried these memories. Damn Jean for bringing them back.

"I'm sorry. His name is all that I know about him." Jim paused, wondering if he should say anything more. "…that and the fact that his death wasn't your fault."

Pete leaned his head back, closed his eyes and got silent. Jim sat perfectly still; not wanting to push his friend into talking about Baxter's death. He couldn't help but wonder why Pete was talking about him now. "You don't have to tell me about him."

"Yes, I do." Pete's stoic façade was in place, but his eyes showed the depth of emotion behind the calm exterior. If Jim were to put one word to those eyes, it would be haunted. "We rode together for fifteen months. I broke him in. In some ways, he was like you; young, eager, married. He was different from you in more ways. He wanted to be a writer, he played Lacrosse and he was tone deaf. "

"Pete, if this is too hard, I don't need to know." Jim saw how Pete's eyes took on a shiny quality; the way his friend's hand trembled. He knew Pete wasn't seeing him; he was back in the warehouse.

"We got a call, a 459 in a warehouse. The PR said he saw one man break in through a side door. When we found the door open, I told Andy to request back-up and stay on the door. He was supposed to send in the back-up unit and stay put. We heard a noise and I went in." Pete paused for a drink of water. It was all Jim could do to not reach out and steady the glass that shook in his partner's hand.

"I was checking the other door when I heard a shot; just one. Without thinking, I ran towards the sound. It never occurred to me that Andy was involved, but the fact that it was only one shot made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A guy ran out from behind a bunch of crates. He pointed a gun at me and I shot him." Pete used the back of his hand to wipe his eyes before continuing; his voice so low that Jim had to lean forward to hear him.

"I was checking to see if the guy was alive when I saw Andy. He was about thirty feet away; lying on the concrete floor. Already, there was a pool of blood beneath him. The bullet had gone straight through his chest. I sat on the floor and held him in my lap. He was crying and he apologized to me. I guess for not following my order. The blood was coming out of him so fast; my uniform was soaked with it. I held him tight and I lied to him; telling him it would be okay. He started to say something about telling his wife that he loved her. At least, I think it was that, because his body trembled once and he died without finishing his thought." By this point, Pete wasn't bothering to hide the tears; neither was Jim.

"He died in my arms and I wouldn't let him go. Greene knelt beside me; telling me to get up and I punched him. I didn't want anyone to touch Andy. I was yelling at them to stay away. It was Mac who finally made me put him down by asking me if I wanted to make the notification."

Pete stopped taking and stared at nothing. He was back in that warehouse, sitting on the bloody floor holding his friend. After five years, it was still the nightmare that woke him up the most. Telling Jim brought it all back: the anger, the denial, the heartbreak and that helpless feeling of knowing that nothing mattered anymore. Jim stayed silent, letting Pete deal with the grief he knew that he couldn't share; although his heart did go out to his partner. He knew Pete was feeling something that he, himself, hoped to never experience.

"Mac's support is what got me through those next four days. He took me to the station to put on a fresh uniform and he stood by me when I told Kelly that Andy was gone. I lied to her too, Partner; telling her that before he died he said "Tell Kelly I love her". I knew what Andy meant to say; he was crazy about his wife and daughter. During the investigation, Greene testified that Andy told him to watch the door. When Greene questioned that, Andy admitted that I told him to stay on the door, but he ran off before Greene could stop him."

"I wasn't your fault Pete. The investigation cleared you, didn't it?" It sounded lame, Jim knew that, but what do you say to comfort someone after a story like that?

"Do you really think that matters?" Pete's voice was a combination of grief and anger; the question daring Jim to give Pete an answer.

"I...I…um…" Jim stammered. Before he heard the anger in Pete's voice, he would have said yes, but his friend obviously felt differently. "I meant…you can't feel guilty, right?"

"I can't?" Pete let out a rueful chuckle. "According to who; the review board? His wife, who hates me now? How should I feel if not guilty?" There was a grimace of pain as Pete turned to fully face Jim. Rarely had Jim seen Pete this angry and unsettled. "He was my responsibility."

Jim started to point out that Andy had disobeyed an order, but Pete cut him off. He had to make Jim understand.

"How did you feel after I got shot at Dukes or in that narco raid? Who were you mad at besides the guys who shot me?"

"Myself." Jim had hesitated before answering; the question caught him off-guard.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't stop it from happening!" Suddenly Jim remembered conversations with Mac, who kept telling him that he shouldn't feel guilty about Pete getting shot.

"And, I didn't stop Andy from dying. It doesn't matter why or how; a part of me will always feel guilty. I'll always wonder why he didn't obey my order. Didn't I stress it enough? Would he still be alive if he had another training officer?"

"Wasn't it you who taught me that you can't play the 'what if' game?" Over the years, Pete had probably admonished him for dwelling on questions he would never have an answer to at least a hundred times.

"There are some things that will always haunt you." It had taken all Pete had in him to talk to Jim about Andy. The last thing he wanted was to bring those memories to the surface; to have to relive it in his sleep for weeks. He hated Jean for forcing him to talk about it.

"I'm sorry Pete." Jim was sorry, but he was also curious; he had to know. "Why did you tell me this now? After five years?"

"Because you need to know." That answer didn't tell Jim anything, but Pete's tone of voice made it clear that he was done talking about Andy. "Are you still going to work with Kasak?"

"Ah, yeah, I feel kind of responsible for him. Is that why you didn't quit after our first shift? You felt responsible for me?"

"Why do you think Val and Mac stuck me with you? They knew if we made a connection that I'd feel responsible for you and would stay." Pete shook his head, actually smiling at that.

"Before you ask, no, that's not why I asked you to train Kasak. We needed a training officer and you were the best candidate for the job."

Jim was about to question that, but he caught sight of the clock on the wall; he had stayed longer than he expected to. "Well, I better get going before I'm late for dinner. It's bad enough that I'm bringing home a puke soaked uniform, I don't need Jean mad at me for anything else."

O~O~O

Pete's request for pain medication worried the duty nurse. He was one of the most stubborn people the staff had had to deal with in a long time; he was well known for refusing his injections of morphine. While she didn't hesitate to give him the medication she did note it his chart. Any change in a patient's behavior needed to be brought to the doctor's attention; it could reflect a change in the patient's condition. He should have known that it would bring Dr. Franks in for a second visit of the day.

"Why the change, Pete?" The doctor took the singular form of his last name as a challenge. He had a wonderful bedside manner, with cooperative patients, but some needed a firmer hand.

"I was tired and wanted to sleep. It's easier to do that when I'm not in pain." Pete really wasn't in the mood for this now.

"I thought you were getting better. Is the pain worse?" He began to probe Pete's abdomen, checking for any swelling or other signs of trouble. Although Pete didn't utter a sound, Franks did notice how Pete's body stiffened in reaction.

"You know I am. Chalk it up to me moving too much." He had certainly done that. Pete has always been more comfortable moving when discussing troubling issues; Andy's death certainly twisted his stomach in knots.

"That might be happening more in the next week or so. I've talked to physical therapy and they agree that it's time to get you on your feet. Your leg wound is healed enough that it can support your weight, but it will hurt so don't refuse the pain medication. As soon as you can walk with a cane, you will be discharged."

"How long before I can get out of here?" If it was up to Pete, he'd have left a long time ago. A steady stream of visitors helped make being in the hospital semi-bearable, but he was still going stir crazy.

"A week to ten days, but don't hold me to that. When you do leave, you'll need to take it easy and continue physical therapy."

"Believe me Doc, I know the routine."

O~O~O

Pete learned a long time ago how to keep his emotions to himself. As a result, none of the visitors he had since Jim left had any idea how much Jean had upset him. To them, he was his usual easy going self, but when Sally arrived a little after eight she knew right away that something was wrong. It wasn't anything Pete said or did; his usual grin was still present, she saw it in his eyes.

"Slide over." After lowering the railing, Sally climbed up on the bed and lay down next to him. "Do you want to tell me about it now, or after I pester you for an hour?"

"Did I say that anything was wrong?" He wrapped his right arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "The doc was here before. He said I might go home in a week. See? I'm fine."

"You might sell that to everyone else but I'm immune to your sidestep. Look me in the eye and tell me that nothing is bothering you." She had him and they both knew it; he would never look into her eyes and lie to her. They were past games, having reached honesty with each other.

"Jean came to see me this morning. She's upset that I am risking Jim's life by insisting that he become a TO." Pete was torn; he didn't want to unleash Sally's wrath on Jean, but he wasn't going to hold anything back. He needed to share this with Sally.

"She said that I was going to get Jim killed, just like I got Andy killed."

"Oh Pete, I'm sorry she said that, you know in your heart that you didn't cause Andy's death." Sally choose to try and sooth his soul, when what she really wanted to do was scream "She what? I'll kill her!"

"I don't understand why she would accuse you of that. She had to know that it would hurt you." Sally nestled closer to him wrapping her arm around his chest; trying to comfort him. At the same time, she was already planning how to destroy Jean.

"I think that was her intent." Pete had spent a lot of time wondering why she would say that to him and the only conclusion he could come to was that she wanted to wound him. "Make me feel bad enough that I would pull Jim back."

"All she's doing is bringing back painful memories; she had no right. Doesn't she know the truth?" Not that the truth would save Pete from agonizing over Andy's death all over again. Although he hadn't had any nightmares about it since they've been back together, she remembered him waking up in a cold sweat for months after Baxter died.

"I never told Jim about him until this afternoon. At least he can answer Jean if she tells him that I got Andy killed." Pete wasn't sure that Jean would say that to Jim. Maybe her intention was to hurt him into changing his mind without telling Jim what she said.

"Good. He can set her straight." Her second thought "hopefully he'll wring her neck" went unsaid.

"Maybe." In his mind, he was back in that warehouse again; he couldn't help it. Sally knew she had to draw him back or he would sink lower.

"Tell me what was funny about Andy; the stupid things he used to do." She couldn't drive away the horrible memories, but talking about good times with Andy might temper his pain. She would be here for him tonight; tomorrow she would deal with Jean.


	6. Chapter 6

Jim didn't know where to start; he wasn't sure which of them was more upset after his visit with Pete. The man who spoke to him today wasn't his usual unflappable partner. Rarely had Jim seen Pete so emotional; sharing his deep feelings wasn't Pete's way. Why after five years of riding together had Pete, who never even told Jim his late partner's name, decided that today he "needed to know".

Over the years, Jim had assumed that Pete came to accept Baxter's death. It should have occurred to him that Pete would feel somewhat guilty despite being cleared of any responsibility for Andy dying. Why hadn't it when Pete never mentioned him? He talked about riding with Val, Mac, Woods even the one day he rode with Wells, but not Baxter. Mary Mac Donald had once remarked that Pete was like a lot of other people who grew up as only children; they learn early how to work out things on their own. Jim was glad that Pete finally shared this with him, but he couldn't help but wonder why now.

Visiting Pete before coming home after his shift made sense logistically; Jean had told him that morning that she would be helping at the church and wouldn't be home until six. Still, he as hesitant to show up with a puke covered uniform for his wife to wash. Jim had no doubt that Jean would be asking a lot of questions as it was; the last few days of arguing made sure of that. The real trouble was, while he had been hesitant to become a training officer, he actually enjoyed it, despite the vomiting. He was considering the possibility that Pete was right; a fact that Jean would strongly disagree with.

"Jean, I'm home." While it was his wife he called to, it was his son who came barreling out of his bedroom yelling "Daddy". Jim picked Jimmy up and tossed him into the air causing the boy to squeal in delight. He then caught the boy with a hug; noticing that his son smelt of dirt, chocolate, baby shampoo and peanut butter. "Hey Sport, where's Mommy?"

"Hi Honey", Jean poked her head out of the kitchen door. "Dinner is almost ready. Jimmy, go wash your hands before we eat." Jim let go of the boy, chuckling as he watched Jimmy run down the hall. Jean tossed the dish towel she was using to dry her hands onto the couch before kissing her husband. "Did you talk to Mac?"

Jim sighed as he broke the hug and took a step back. "I tried to, but…"

"You tried?" Jean had cut him off before he could fill her in on what Mac and the captain had said; this was not a good sign. "In other words, you rode with that rookie, right?"

"I had to. Even Captain Moore spoke to me about it. He said…" Jim stopped talking when Jimmy reappeared. If possible, Jim wanted to avoid having Jimmy watch them fight, again.

"We'll talk about it after dinner. Come on Jimmy." Jean took her son's hand; leading him into the kitchen. The brusqueness of her tone indicated that the dinner would be awkward and that the after dinner conversation wasn't going to be pleasant. To an outside observer, it would have seemed like a normal family dinner, but up close it wasn't; Jim talked to Jimmy, Jean talked to Jimmy and neither Jean nor Jim spoke to the other. If there was one saving grace in that dinner it was that Jimmy was too young to notice the odd behavior of his parents. While Jean cleared the table Jim got Jimmy ready for bed.

"Jimmy wants you to come into his room and kiss him goodnight. I'll do the rest of the dishes." Jim crossed the kitchen; holding out a hand for the dish washing cloth. Maybe it would calm her some if he did the rest of the dishes, or at least that is what Jim hoped. Jean threw the cloth into the sink, splashing sudsy water on both of them, saying that she would do it when she got back.

Jim bit back a snarky comment and proceeded to finish the dishes anyway. It was something to do while waiting for Jean and the argument that was sure to come. He also took the opportunity to bring the puked on uniform to the washing machine. They'd been going around in circles on the issue of his job ever since Pete was shot in the narco raid. Over a year later, nothing was accomplished except for hurt feelings.

"I told you I would finish the dishes when Jimmy was asleep." Jim was putting the last of the dishes into the drying rack when Jean returned. "Is this supposed to make me forget about you, Pete and that rookie?"

"His name is Larry and no, I don't for a minute expect you to change your mind because I finished the dishes." Jim refilled his coffee mug and took a seat at the kitchen table. "You've been making your opinion clear for quite a while now."

"If you know how I feel why do you insist on further risking your life to train a rookie?" Unlike Jim, Jean had yet to take a seat; preferring to stand close to the kitchen's sliding glass door. "Pete decides that you need to do the most dangerous job on the force and everyone, including you, agrees with him?"

"Whoever told you that it is the most dangerous job is wrong. It's safer than riding alone, working undercover or being on the bomb squad." Jim was fidgeting with the mug, turning it around and around; he had yet to take a drink of the coffee.

"It doesn't matter who told me that. Isn't it true that the training officer is supposed to protect the rookie; to put their life between them and danger?" Jean moved closer to Jim, looming over him; her expression daring Jim to contradict her. "I remember you telling me that before your first shift."

"The idea is to keep Larry safe, but I'm not alone in that. If the call has the slightest chance of danger, a back-up unit also responds. Besides, Larry is a former MP; not a totally inexperienced probationer."

"Is that how Pete justifies putting your life in danger?" The anger over his job was hitting him like the waves of the ocean. He could see the whites of her knuckles as she gripped the back of one of the chairs. "Maybe it will help to ease his conscience when you die too."

"Would you please sit down? I don't appreciate you standing over me." Jim used his legs to push his chair back away from her, causing some of the coffee to spill from his mug. "Pete almost died saving Jimmy and me three weeks ago. Do you really think he would risk my life now?"

"Why wouldn't he? He's gambled with lives before and lost." From the first day they rode together, Pete had always put his own life in danger over that of anyone else. Something in the back of Jim's mind wondered if this had any connection with what Pete told him earlier.

"That's not true and you know it; you know Pete. This is a man who hid in the trunk of a car to save my life." It was true that Jim saved Pete's life twice, but he couldn't begin to count up all the times Pete stood between him and death.

"I knew Pete; before I found out that he was responsible for the death of his last partner. Why didn't you ever tell me about that, huh?" Jean took two steps forward, closing the distance between her and Jim; hovering over him like a mountain lion waiting to pounce on its prey.

"I did tell you when I got home after my first shift. Believe me, if Pete was even partially responsible for what happened to Baxter, he wouldn't still be on the force. The department would have fired him." Up until now, Jim had purposely remained seated in an attempt to not escalate the conflict, but he couldn't let Jean's accusations go unanswered. He would defend the man he saw today; the one still carrying the pain of his friend's death.

"I was told that he wormed his way out of it. His dead partner's sister-in-law works at Jimmy's school. When she saw him in that LAPD shirt Pete gave him, we started talking. She said Pete got her sister's husband killed." Jean stood absolutely still her glare daring Jim to contradict her.

"Baxter got himself killed." Jim stood up quickly, the back of his legs pushing the chair into the wall. "Pete told him to stay on the door; a position designed to keep him safe. The kid disobeyed the order and went roaming around the warehouse. That's what got him killed." Jim was so angry that his whole body was shaking.

"Is that what Pete told you? When you got home after your first shift you told me that Pete was going to quit over the death of a friend, not a partner. Why should I believe anything either one of you say now?"

"Because I'm your husband; you know that I have never lied to you!" Jim had been forced to step to the side and back until his shoulder blades touched wall. It was a good position to have when fighting one or more of your enemies, but not when your adversary is your wife. Jim stepped around the table; putting some distance between himself and Jean. "I can't believe you are acting like this. I can handle being a training officer."

"I don't want you dying like Pete's last partner did. He almost got you and Jimmy killed by Johnson." There, she said it. Jean's initial worry over Pete had morphed into questions of why Johnson tried to kill them. Until she spoke to Baxter's sister-in-law she didn't accept the obvious; Pete's carelessness almost caused her to lose her family. He was the reason that Jimmy had nightmares about the bad man.

"Pete saved us from him. Johnson didn't come looking for Pete in our backyard; he wanted me. The fact is that Johnson blamed me for his going to prison as much as he blamed Pete." Technically, that was a stretch of the truth; Tony wanted revenge on both of them, but he saw Pete's part in his conviction as a betrayal of their friendship. As far as Pete was concerned, Johnson destroyed that friendship by using it in an attempt to get away with extortion.

"Whatever, he let Johnson get his hands on Jimmy. Don't you see, our son might have died because of Pete; just like his last partner did?" Jean kicked Jim's chair back under the table. "I don't know how you can defend him."

"I don't understand how you can be saying this garbage. If I was in the yard instead of Pete, Johnson would have gotten to Jimmy anyway. What Pete did after that is what matters." Jim's hands were clenched into fists; it was more in anger than in any way a threat to Jean. "Listen to me. Pete was in no way responsible for what happened to Baxter."

"So he said wh….." Jean cut herself off; not wanting to let Jim know that she had talked to Pete. Jim finally thought he had part of the answer as to why Pete suddenly decided that he "needed to know" how Baxter died.

"Did you go to see Pete today and accuse him of being the reason that Baxter died?" He stared at her wide-eyed, unable to believe his assumption; surely his wife wouldn't be that vindictive. Yet, only something like that could have shaken Pete to his core. Jean glared at him in silence. "How could you hurt him that way? Even if you didn't know the details, you should have known how he would react. You saw him after Tom Porter died." Jim stormed out of the kitchen; grabbing his car keys off the coffee table in the living room. "I'm going for a drive. While I'm gone, you can wash the puke covered uniform I left on the washing machine."

Jim drove off before Jean could get past the front door. Two hours later, he was tired but too disgusted to go home. Stopping at Jean's parents or his own was out of the question. The last thing Jim wanted was to get either set of parents involved. That left only one place; Pete's apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

"He had the worst poker face I ever saw. I'm a lousy player and I could bankrupt him." Sally was doing her best to get Pete to focus on happy memories of his late partner instead of the despair that hovered over him like a storm cloud. It was working; even so, she knew that Jean's accusation would win out. It was only human to feel guilty over Andy's death despite how he got killed.

Pete stopped talking when Barbara, the night nurse, came into the room; retreating into himself. Sally responded to a questioning glance with a shake of her head, signaling to the nurse that it was better to not ask what was going on. Barbara took the hint; going about her business of checking Pete's vital signs. Before leaving, she rechecked Pete's blood pressure. Sally didn't miss the worry in the nurse's eyes. That look confirmed what Sally was afraid of; Pete's blood pressure was way too high. Cuddled together as they were, she could actually feel how rapidly his heart was beating. No doubt, the resident on duty would be notified.

"Do you think Jean has said anything about Andy to Jim yet?" Pete couldn't bring himself to tell Jim what Jean had accused him of; anything said would have put Jim in the place of having to defend his wife. He knew that he couldn't control his temper if he brought it up to Jim. Things said in anger can never be fully taken back and he valued Jim's friendship too much to risk destroying it. They might still happen, if Jean tells Jim a version of what happened that didn't match the facts.

"She might not; not yet anyway. You did say that the nurse interrupted you two before she was done talking." Over the time they've been seeing each other, Sally would often reach a hand to Pete's cheek, rubbing her thumb along the stubble on his chin. Pete was so used to the gesture that it took him a moment to realize what she was doing this time; while her thumb was playing with the two day growth on his chin, she lightly touched his neck with her fingers.

"You could have asked the nurse if you're that curious…" Pete chuckled as he gently pulled Sally's fingers off his carotid artery. "…instead of trying to be sneaky."

"Sorry, I'm worried about you. Your blood pressure is too high. Didn't you see the way Barbara looked at you when she took it the second time?"

"I'm more worried about Jim right now than I am about my blood pressure." Normally, Pete would run his fingers through his hair when he was upset, but with Sally in his arms all he could do was to drum the fingers of his left hand on her back. "Things between him and Jean haven't been right for a long while. It goes back to our encounter with two guys named Norm and Steve. That's when she started hinting at her desire for him to take the investigators exam; to keep him safe."

"Didn't you tell me that she wasn't happy when he was working for narcotics?" Sally has been trying to piece all these facts together since she and Pete got together again. It would be a lie to say that she hadn't noticed the tension between the couple and, occasional barbed comment directed at Pete. For his own part, Pete let them pass; it wasn't worth it to say something.

"She wasn't. The hours were crazy and Jim hated working vice. He was always angry; that's when she wanted him to go back to patrol." Pete lived through it, barely, and he had trouble keeping up with the shifting moods of Jean Reed. "After I got shot the last time, Jean urged him to take the investigators exam again. The fact that Jim risked his life to save me added another log to the fire. It didn't help that Jimmy announced that he wanted to grow up to be a hero policeman like Daddy and Uncle Pete." He paused, taking a small drink of water. "You see, when he saw me go down, Jim acted on instinct; he didn't stop to consider what it would mean to Jean and Jimmy if he got killed. All he knew was that I needed him."

"When I heard what you did in the Reed's backyard, I didn't know whether to be proud of you, worried about you or mad at you for deciding to leave me." Pete tightened his hold on her as she began to tremble; they hadn't yet had this discussion. His memories of that day were still too fragmented for him to be able to confide in her what his thought process was at the time. "There are times when I want to knock some sense into your head; mostly when you talk about wanting to go back to work. Other times I am so proud of you that I could burst." There were tears in her eyes when she lifted her head off his chest to see his face. "Did you think about me before you decided to give your life for Jim and Jimmy?"

"Sally…" Pete hesitated, staring into those pleading blue eyes; how to answer that question? "I wish I could tell you everything that went through my head from the time Tony grabbed Jimmy until I tried my best to get myself killed, but I don't know what I thought." Pete reached up with his left hand to wipe the tears that were running down her cheeks. "What I do know is that you have barely left my thoughts since we got back together; I'm sure I didn't want to leave you but, you see, I'm also sure that Tony would have shot me no matter what I did."

"I think I understand." There was a wavering quality to her voice; an uncertainness in her words. Pete put his right hand on the back of her head, pulling her into a tender kiss.

"Don't you know how much I love you; that I want to spend the rest of my life with you?" Sally's hold on him tightened in response to that statement. It was the closest Pete ever came to asking her to marry him. He almost took that last step, but reality set in; until he knew what his life will be like once he's "healed", he didn't feel right asking her to make a commitment. Pete and Sally fell into a comfortable silence; it was an unspoken agreement to let them both gather their thoughts. At least it was quiet until Barbara returned with two syringes. She cut off the inevitable objections with a daring glare.

"The resident called Dr. Franks about your blood pressure." Already, the clear liquid was being injected into his IV port. "This will lower it. He also said to give you your pain medication since you are long overdue for it."

"I don't need the morphine." Pete pulled his hand back when the nurse went to switch syringes, but neither Barbara nor Sally, who wrapped a hand around his arm, were going to let him get away with refusing. "_Women_…."

"Oh…" Barbara turned before leaving. "Your partner's wife called the floor an hour or so ago, wanting to know if he was here."

O~O~O

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

There are few things that rival the sound of a frying pan being swung into a metal door.

"Earthquake, what the heck?" That was the first thing Jim thought as he rolled off the couch and onto the floor. At least Pete had a nice soft rug to break his fall.

"You come out of there right now whoever you are!" Mrs. O'Brian's dulcet tone of voice greatly added to Jim's pounding headache. "The police are coming. No one breaks into Pete Malloy's apartment on my watch."

"Mrs. O'Brian. Please stop. I'll open the door as soon as I can get up." As he got to his feet, Jim took a second to check his watch: 2 am. Jean would be having fits. He hadn't meant to sleep on the couch, merely to calm down before going home for round two.

"Officer Reed, is that you in there?" Something told Jim that Mrs. O'Brian was still standing outside the door holding the frying pan in mid-swing.

"Yes, Mrs. O'Brian, it's me." He undid the dead bolt and opened the door; anxious to see if she had relaxed now that she knew it was him. Jim couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the older woman holding the frying pan like a baseball bat. She was already to swing for the fence if it wasn't him that opened the door. "I'm sorry to have startled you. If I knew you were home, I would have spoken to you before entering Pete's place."

"It's the middle of the night. Why are you here Officer Reed? Pete didn't send you to check up on me, did he?" Jim opened the door wider, inviting her in while at the same time taking the frying pan from her hand. "He worries about me a little."

"No, he asked me to pick up something for him. I fell asleep on the couch by accident." Jim cast a glance heavenward, silently praying that she didn't ask what Pete sent him to get.

"It couldn't wait until morning? Doesn't your wife want you home by now?" At times, that old woman seemed to be conducting an IAD exam.

"I'm sure Jean will understand my falling asleep. It's been a rough few weeks." It was a good thing that Mrs. O'Brian was short as it gave Jim a chance to look past her for something to "bring" to Pete.

"I'm surprised that she didn't call here looking for you…." She let that carrot dangle for a long enough pause to be uncomfortable. "You wouldn't be hiding here after another fight, would you? It's not nice to lie to an old woman."

"A fight?" He was sure that Pete hadn't spoken to Mrs. O'Brian about his domestic problems, so she had to be fishing. "Of course not."

"Humph, you've been around Pete Malloy too long. He is a lousy liar too. Do you think I haven't noticed that you sleep here sometimes?" She stood with her hands on her hips, daring him to deny what she thought was obvious. "That wife of yours needs a good talking to; chasing you out of your own home. What about your little boy?"

"Where I sleep and when is my business. Do you mind if I get what Pete wanted and leave?" Jim snapped at her without thinking. That old woman hit a nerve; not bad for someone swatting at flies.

"He can wait till morning." She put a hand on Jim's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Even Mrs. O'Brian occasionally knew when she crossed the line. "Me, I'll mind my own business. If Pete lets you stay here sometimes, that's between the two of you. Good night Officer Reed."

Jim's ride around town had given him time to come to one conclusion; he didn't know enough about what happened between Pete and Jean. Maybe he should have stayed home long enough to find out everything that happened - according to Jean but she had caught him off-guard. He also found himself doubting her veracity and objectivity; a fact that bothered him greatly. Honesty and trust had always been part of their marriage. Was it still?

Why hadn't Pete told him that she accused him of getting Baxter killed? During the last few years, Jim did notice that Pete, other than making the couch in his apartment available on little or no notice, tried to stay out of his marriage. He saw how much what Jean said had hurt Pete; how painful those memories were to him. Yet, his friend didn't slam his wife. Was Pete protecting Jean by his roundabout method of explaining how Baxter died? Was he protecting their friendship?

Clearly, both of them owed him answers, tomorrow. For now, Jim grabbed a blanket and lay back on Pete's couch; the thought of using Pete's bed made Jim sick to his stomach. If Jean wanted him, she could call him. Where else would he be?


	8. Chapter 8

"Andy! No, Please God, no!" Sally was jolted awake when she heard Pete crying out. She had gotten up to answer a phone call and when she returned Pete had fallen asleep, so she took a seat on one of those horrible hospital chairs instead of climbing back into bed with him. The night nurse had urged Sally to go home but she had the feeling that Pete might need her tonight. She rushed to his side, hoping to get there before he started flailing about; she's seen it happen before. Never before had he hit her, but this time Sally caught the back of his hand on her right cheek as he swung his right arm out and sat up hard and fast.

Two nurses rushed into the room. One carefully avoided stepping on Sally and grabbed hold of Pete's right arm. The other was trying to push Pete back down on the bed. It was like wrestling an alligator. They were shouting his name as they tried to wake him up.

"Stop, let me handle it, please." Sally shook her head to clear it and slowly got up off the floor. "He won't respond well to you two grabbing him and yelling." Pete had moved onto the next stage; Night Terrors they're called. Still asleep he sat staring wide eyed at nothing while his body trembled**. **Sally took the precaution of moving to Pete's left side before she gently stoked his cheek and whispered his name over and over until he turned to face her.

"Sally? What….." Pete took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff. His shoulders drooped as he leaned forward, head held in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his trembling body, whispering into his ears so softy that only Pete heard what she said. As he calmed down, she spoke to Barbara and the other nurse. "He's okay now. You can go and I'll take care of him."

The nurses hesitated to leave, but Pete was showing no signs of starting up again. In fact, he sat there silently staring at his hands. They went, but this incident was sure to be noted on his chart and brought up to his doctors in the morning.

"There are times that I still see his blood on my hands." Pete spoke in barely a whisper; his eyes shiny with unshed tears. "I can hear the rattle as he struggled to breathe and the awful stillness when he stopped. Will it ever go away?"

"You'll never forget but it faded once Pete, it will again." Sally took Pete's hands in her much smaller ones even as she silently cursed Jean Reed. "Honey, look at me." She waited until Pete actually focused on her face. "Andy wouldn't blame you for what happened and no one else has the right. Not Jean, not Kelly, not even you."

"But he was…" Sally cut him off by putting her index finger on his mouth. Pete had torn himself apart after Andy died; blaming himself for not protecting him. Gradually Pete began to accept that Andy had free will and that Andy's mistake wasn't his. Reed's presence had given him a renewed purpose. Sally wasn't going to let Pete backslide into that depression again. At least this time, he was more open to her about his feelings; the last defensive walls he put up for protection had finally come down with their renewed relationship.

"He wasn't a rookie anymore. Your level of responsibility for his safety wasn't the same as it was when he was a probationer. At fifteen months, he was also responsible for his safety." Sally let go of Pete's hand to enable her to move around the foot of the bed. Once there, she sat on the right side of the bed. "I liked Andy too but I love you. Don't let what Jean said cause us problems."

Pete put a hand on her shoulder intending to turn her enough to kiss her when he noticed that her right cheek was red and swelling. The question he meant to ask died in his throat when he realized what must have happened to her. "Oh Sally, I'm so sorry. I hit you, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. I ran into your backhand." She gave him a look that totally dared him to contradict her. "You are not responsible for what you do during a nightmare. So, shush. It's fine."

"Okay", Pete chuckled, "Can I at least call for an ice bag to keep it from swelling too much?"

"Later." Sally leaned forward to give him a very passionate kiss. "I want a different kind of apology from you, Mister." Pete was happy to accede to her request.

O~O~O

"Officer Reed! Officer Reed!" The firm knocking on Pete's door was preferable to the sound of an iron skillet being whacked into it. "Wake up, Officer Reed. I've brought breakfast."

It took Jim a few seconds to remember where he was. You'd think that he wouldn't have had any disorientation considering how many times he has slept on Pete's couch over the last year. The difference was, this time he wasn't here because Jean threw him out; he was here because he wasn't ready to confront her about what she did to Pete.

"I'm coming, Mrs. O'Brian." A glance at the kitchen clock showed that it was 6am. He'd need to be getting home soon if he wasn't going to be late for work. He had no clean uniform at the station; he had put on the spare in his locker after Kasak threw up on him.

Jim could smell the coffee before he even opened the door. Mrs. O'Brian stood in the doorway holding a pot of coffee and a plate of eggs, bacon and pancakes. Times like this allowed Jim to see how Pete could live in the same apartment building with her.

"I don't know when you have to work, so I decided to assume that you were still working days. Pete usually gets up way too late and has to rush but you strike me as an earlier riser." Jim laughed as he stepped aside to let her in; Pete Malloy was never late for anything. It didn't occur to Jim until much later to wonder how she knew what shift he was working.

"Thank you very much Mrs. O'Brian. Do you do this often for Pete?" While the older woman poured coffee into a mug, Jim dug into the breakfast. Not only was he hungry, but he doubted that Jean would feed him when he showed up. His one hope was that Jimmy was still asleep then.

"Tosh, Pete always has something here to eat." She pulled a small jar of milk out of her apron pocket and set it down before Jim. "I cleaned out his refrigerator after he…..well, after. So, I know there is nothing here now." She watched him eat for a few minutes; something that unnerved him a little. Then she took a seat across the table from him.

"It's your job, isn't it?" Jim jerked his head up from his food, dropping the fork on the plate. "Don't look at me like that Officer Reed, Pete didn't tell me anything. He won't even admit that you sometimes sleep here when you and your wife fight."

"Then why ask me if it is my job?" He left out mentioning that this was really none of her business.

"I'm here a lot and I notice things." That was one way to put it. "You started showing up at night after you got shot in the leg. After you saved Pete last year, thank you by the way, you came more often." She handed the fork back to Jim; encouraging him to continue eating. "You can't keep sleeping here. Think of your son."

O~O~O

The chain across the front door hadn't been used since Jim and Pete installed the deadbolt, but it stopped Jim from opening the door. The last thing he wanted to do was to wake up Jimmy so instead of calling out for Jean, he closed the door and softly knocked.

"Jim, is that you?" She sounded more worried than angry; it wasn't Jim's intention to worry her, but he would take it.

"Yeah Honey, it's me. I'm sorry to worry you. I fell asleep." There would be time later to tell her that he went back to sleep after his encounter with Mrs. O'Brian.

"At the hospital?" Jean unhooked the chain and opened the door. He could see it in his wife's eyes; she was afraid of what Pete might have told him.

"I didn't go to the hospital. I took a drive and stopped someplace where I could be alone to think." She didn't ask, but he told her anyway. "I still have his key."

"Did you decide anything?" That fact went a little way towards allaying her current fears; Jim wasn't sure about Pete either.

"Only that I have questions for both of you. Why would you do that to Pete and why didn't he tell me about it. You see, I saw him after you did and he didn't say a word about you."

O~O~O

Jean agreed to postpone any discussion of the matter because of the limited amount of time Jim had before going to work. Instead, he spent the next half hour playing with Jimmy; having awakened him for that purpose, and breakfast. He made it to work with time to spare.

"Jim, got a minute?" Mac had grabbed Jim's arm to stop him from entering the locker room. "In my office?"

"Sure Mac, what's up?" It could be two things; Kazak's performance yesterday or Pete.

"After yesterday, are you still willing to give Kasak a try?" Mac was holding up their reports from yesterday, chucking. It hasn't been the best first day but it hadn't been the worst Mac's seen either.

"Yeah Mac, at least until Pete comes back to patrol." Jim spoke with a determination that dared Mac to challenge it. The sergeant knew that look well enough to not argue with Jim; Pete had schooled him well on that technique.

"That should give him a few months to learn from you." MacDonald paused; weighing how much to say. "Have you seen Pete lately? I haven't seen him in a few days, what with all the overtime. How's he doing?"

"Yesterday. He told me how Andy Baxter died." Jim turned and left the office; that was all the answer needed. Mac was there then, he knew.


	9. Chapter 9

"1 Adam-12, Day Watch, clear." Larry had already put the mic back when dispatch responded. "I Adam-12, clear and a call, 459 there now, see the woman, 158 Benton Way. Code 2" Peripheral vision allowed Jim to refrain from turning to look at the blushing Kasak. No need to correct him; he realized his mistake and acknowledged the call.

"At least we don't have far to go." Jim wanted to help Larry get over the awkward moment. "I don't think I can remember any 459's this close to the station." The house was literally down the block and easily spotted because of the old woman standing in the street waving a dish towel.

"He's in there again. Stealing from me; his grandmother!" She led them to an open window on the side of her house. "There's only one way out of my bedroom besides the door. You catch that little thief." Jim left Kasak on the window and went inside with the grandmother. When the kid heard the door, he tried to bail out of the window. That's where he was when Jim got into the bedroom, legs dangling in the house and Kasak's hands on his shoulders, holding the boy in place.

"Alright son, give it up." Jim put his hands around the kid's waist, helping him back down in the room. He seemed to be in his early teens.

"Let me go. I wasn't doing anything wrong. This is my grandmother's house. She is gonna….."

"I'm gonna tan your hide is what I'm going to do!" Jim put out a hand to block her from whacking her grandson on the butt with a wooden spoon. Undaunted she tried an end run but Kasak had shown up and disarmed the woman. They found two rolled up twenty dollar bills in the boy's pocket which he claimed were his.

"You're a liar as well as a thief. Take the rubber band off and unroll them officer. You'll see." Written on the backside of the inner twenty were the words: This bill was stolen from Mrs. Roger Seals. "I knew you'd come back you little creep. Take him away officers, I'll press charges. Maybe this will wake up my son and that ditzy wife of his."

Jim let Kasak take down all the information as he kept an eye on the now cuffed boy. With a little prodding at the appropriate times he made sure that the rookie got all the pertinent information. Back at the station, they processed him, notified Juvenile and called the boy's father.

Jim was going to write the report himself when he remembered something Pete had done after one of their first calls. It made an impression on him so he decided to try it out on Kasak. While he wrote a report, he had Kasak write his own version of the report. When both reports were done, Jim had Kasak compare the two; noting the differences.

"I forgot a lot, didn't I?"

"Yes, beginning with not stating that he was given his Miranda Rights. Without that in the report, he could get off on a technicality. I think his grandmother would be furious after all the trouble she took to snag the kid." Jim was impressed at the lengths the grandmother had gone in order to catch her grandson. According to her, his parents think he is a misunderstood angel.

"That's horrible. Would you do that? Turn on your own grandson?" Kasak was definitely leaning on the kid's side; projecting his own feelings into the facts. "How could she have him arrested? I'd hate it if my grandmother was that nasty."

"He's a thief no matter his relationship to her. Remember, she's tried talking to his parents and they didn't do anything." Jim had Kasak sign the properly written report. "She did him a favor; turned him in before he got into worse trouble." He picked up the report intending to take it to Mac for approval. "You're a professional now. Leave your emotions at the door."

"Yes Sir, sorry Sir." Jim managed to stifle a laugh as he noticed Kazak's reaction to his voice; somewhere along the way, Reed had acquired a TO's imposing tone. He sounded like Pete did during their early months riding together. Maybe Pete was right, he could be a good training officer.

O~O~O

Sally had fallen asleep on Pete's good shoulder in spite of the ice pack he held against her cheek. As much as the nightmare had upset Pete, the fact that he, even accidently, hit Sally kept him awake. He always hated men who hit women; the worst fight he had as a teen was when he beat the crap out of a guy who was slapping around a girl they knew in school. The fact that he left for basic training two days later probably kept him out of jail. Thankfully, sniper training in the army taught him to control his temper.

"Time to wake up, sleepy head. If you're late for work they might bust us for sharing a bed in here." He gently jostled her shoulder as he spoke in what he hoped was a semi-cheerful voice; not that it fooled Sally.

"They wouldn't dare try it." As she looked up at him, she saw the pain in his usually sparkling eyes. He was staring at her swollen cheek. Sally reached up to touch his chin stubble in a tender caress. "Pete. It's not your fault, so get that guilty look off your face. If you don't cheer up I'm going to ask them to give you some nitrous oxide."

"Threats? I usually get kisses when you play with my stubble." One of the things he loved about her is her ability to make him laugh in spite of himself.

"I can do that instead of calling for laughing gas." Sally shifted up enough to plant a very inviting kiss on his lips. Ten minutes of passionate contact later she was off to work and he was frustrated, but she had distracted him from his dour thoughts.

O~O~O

It was still early in their shift, yet Jim couldn't help but yawn. Operating on little sleep was more challenging when he both had to drive and answer all of Kasak's questions. They ranged from the simple to the serious.

"If we have to respond code 3, do I turn on the lights and siren?" Answer: no

"Where should I keep my handcuff key?" (Asked after it fell out of his shirt pocket when he took this notepad out) Answer: The right or left back pants pocket depending on which is your dominant hand.

"When you first started working, were you worried that you couldn't shoot a person if you had to?" Jim tried not to smile at the first questions, but the last one stopped him cold. He remembered that first shooting; a teenage sniper.

"Yeah, but Pete told me the same thing they said at the academy, about you not having time to think; only him I believed. He was right. It was over before I had time to worry." Pete's steady presence had gotten Jim through that first rough night and the weeks after he killed the boy; would he be able to do that for Larry if he had to?

"Sir?" They were near the intersection of Acta Place and Coma Lane when Larry interrupted Jim's unvoiced concerns. "Over there, Sir. There's a woman on the ground by that big tree."

"Put us code six and then join me." Jim had stopped the car and was partially out of the car before turning to say one more thing to Kasak. "Don't call me Sir."

"Excuse me Ma'am. Are you alright?" Kasak had run past Reed to get to the woman first. She was in her mid-twenties and wearing a purple sweat suit. Even at a distance, the blood was clearly visible in her blonde hair.

"Do I look alright to you?" Kasak blushed and Reed did his best to stifle a smile. Jim got down on one knee; offering the woman a clean handkerchief.

"Are you hurt, Ma'am?" Kasak continued, taking out his note pad and pen, all ready to take down her story. Instead, Jim sent him to call an ambulance. The woman muttered "moron" under her breath as he ran back to the squad car.

"He's new." Jim felt some compulsion to make an excuse for his trainee despite the stupid questions. "While we wait for the ambulance, would you mind telling me your name and what happened?"

"Karen Weiss. I was jogging with my dog, but she tripped me. I hit my head on the walk and I think I broke my ankle. I crawled over here to wait for help to show up."

"We'll get you to a hospital. Do you want me to have Officer Kasak look for your dog?" Jim saw squirrels and a few rabbits but no dogs were in sight.

"No thank you. She'll find her way home. Besides, I doubt that he could find a dog if it was in his lap."

O~O~O

Pete looked up from the book he was reading when he heard the familiar sound of knocking. He chucked, only Jim knocked like that, besides no one else ever bothers to knock on a hospital door.

"What are you doing here in _that_ get-up?" The Class A uniform confirmed what Pete already knew; that Jim was supposed to be working the day watch. Reed had left Kasak down in the ER to wait for the doctor's report on the victim. This was a conversation he didn't want the rookie around for.

"You can thank that watchdog of yours for me being here." Pete wasn't often dumbfounded but he had no idea what Jim was talking about. "She woke me up in time for me to get to work."

"Um, Partner, I don't have a dog. You know that." Pete shook his head, laughing. "I may be heavily medicated, but even I remember that much."

"Sure you do. You know the one; the Doberman that bangs on your apartment door at 2 a.m. with a frying pan if she thinks a burglar is in there."

"Aww, Mrs. O'Brian wouldn't hurt a fly, an intruder, that's a different matter." It took a second or two for Jim's whole comment to register. He eyed his partner questioningly. "What were you doing at my….. Never mind, you don't have to answer that."

"What was I doing in your apartment at 2 a.m.?" Jim took one of those plastic chairs found in hospitals, turned it backwards and sat on it. "What do you think I was doing?"

"Sleeping, maybe thinking." The question made Pete uncomfortable; Jim only spent the night in his apartment when Jean threw him out.

"A little of both, but I was asleep when she banged on the door." Jim hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. He decided on the direct approach. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About what, Partner?" Yes, Pete was stalling; he had to be careful how he handled this. "What did you want me to tell you?"

"You could have told me that Jean came to see you yesterday and made some questionable comments." Jim's tone of voice held some anger, but there was something else beneath that; curiosity mingled with doubt.

"To what end, Jim?" Pete adjusted the bed controls so that he was on an eye level with his closest friend. "If I told you that Jean came to visit me and said that I was going to get you killed just like I got my last partner killed? What would you have done?" Pete actually wanted an answer, but Jim didn't offer him one. "Defend her? Say I was mixed up because of the pain meds? Or believe me and wonder about your wife?"

"I…I…I'm not sure."

"Either way I lose, because it would put me in the middle of your marriage; a place I am trying very hard to stay out of." Pete took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I honestly hoped that it was a tactic to force me to drop you as a training officer and that she would never tell you what she accused me of."

"So instead, you put yourself through the anguish of telling me what really happened to Baxter; just in case Jean did tell me that lie about you?" Jim always knew that he had never had a truer friend than Pete, but he was amazed at the depth of commitment. "She's why I needed to know."

"Yes, your wife is afraid, Jim. Usually, she keeps it under control, but all this has been too much for her. You remember how my mother reacted?" While Pete's mother was in Los Angles right after the shooting that had landed him in the hospital, she went a little over the deep end; to the point of trying to give him a sponge bath.

"Yes, yesterday, I wanted to strangle Jean…so did Sally." Pete could help chuckling at the memory of a feisty Sally all set to fiercely defend him; just as quickly getting serious. "You have a big problem, my friend. Either she gets some help to deal with the fear or she forces you to compromise what you are inside. If you leave patrol or the force because of her fear, you'll start hating her for making you give up a job you love." Pete had a few friends whose marriages had ended in divorce over the job.

"I'm so sorry for what she did to you Pete. She wasn't like this right after you got shot, but this past weekend I caught her standing by the sliding glass doors in the kitchen and she was shaking." Jim rubbed the side of his nose with his index finger; a familiar gesture that often told Pete when Jim was torn between choices – none of them alone would fix this problem. "It happened in our backyard; is Jimmy safe anywhere?"


	10. Chapter 10

"I'll get you for this Pete." It had taken Jim about ten minutes to find his wayward rookie. Instead of sitting in the waiting room, Kasak was in an exam room flirting with a young nurse. After working a shift and a half together, Jim had already figured out that Kasak was, almost, as big a flirt as Pete was. The other three new probationers were two married guys and a woman. Sometimes Pete had a weird sense of humor.

"Ahem, are you ready to get back to work yet?" At the sound of Jim's voice the nurse and Kasak broke off the kiss they were moving towards.

"Sorry Sir….um…this is Rachel. She's invited us to have lunch here…both of us…in the cafeteria." Kasak was clearly both nervous and shaken; the former was about the girl, the latter about the stern response of his training officer. Jim jerked a thumbed fist over his shoulder, indicating the door out.

"Didn't they cover the "no dating while working" rule at the academy?" Jim knew that he was letting some of his frustration out at Kasak, but he was the closest target. How was he supposed to make Jean understand that she can't let fear run their lives? "Head out to the unit, I'll be there in a minute."

Jim took a quick glance around the ER; he wanted to speak to Sally, but she was nowhere in sight.

O~O~O

"Physical therapy called, they're sending someone up to work with you." Today's nurse came into the room with a syringe in hand. "Doctor's order; pain meds before PT."

"I'd rather not take the medication. I'll be fine without it." Pete moved his arm, and the IV port as far away as he could manage it. "Thanks anyway."

"I'm only doing as the doctor ordered, Mr. Malloy. Now give me your arm." Pete had put his arm behind his head; giving the nurse the choice of backing off or pulling it back down.

"I don't want it and the name is Pete." He pinned her with a green eyed glare; daring her to try and get to the IV in his arm.

"Officer Malloy. I have my orders; now give me your arm so I can get back to my other patients." She was an older woman, with enough experience with difficult patients to not give up so easily. "I don't want to have to call for help, but I will give you this shot if I have to have four orderlies holding you down."

"Try it. I don't need the morphine and you can't make me take it." Pete could out stubborn an ornery mule and had no intention of giving in on this issue.

"I am not leaving here without giving you this injection, now cooperate or I'll stick it in your leg." That threat might have worked but Pete knew hospital rules; an IV injection cannot be given intramuscular without a change in orders.

"You can't do that without the doctor changing the order. I don't need pain medication so leave me be." It seemed that the longer Pete spent in the hospital, the shorter his temper was. "You can't make me take it and you know that." The nurse gave him a dirty look, sighed deeply and left. After all, if he wanted to be in pain it was his business. Pete enjoyed a whole ten minutes of solitude; broken when two men entered.

"There he is Steve, your patient." Dr. Franks came in accompanied by another man in his late fifties. "Bear in mind that he is as stubborn as the rock he's named after."

"Good afternoon to you too, Doc." Pete was giving the new man the same once over he gave to suspected felons; causing the man to take a step back.

"Steve, here, is your new physical therapist. It's his job to get you on your feet so that you can leave our humble establishment and stop haranguing the nursing staff." Franks chuckled; a part of the doctor was enjoying all this.

"Steve." Pete offered his hand towards the other man; a mistake that gave Dr. Franks to grab his arm. The surgeon pulled a syringe from the pockets of his long white coat, not bothering to ask for permission before sending the morphine through Pete's veins. Pete growled.

"Sorry Pete, Steve isn't going to be gentle. You need the pain medication." Dr. Franks nodded to the physical therapist and left. "He's all yours."

"Before you can stand, I need to know if you can manage to sit up with your legs dangling off the side of the bed." Steve pulled down the blankets that were covering Pete's legs. Three weeks in a bed is enough inactivity alone to weaken the body; add in two major surgeries sapping his strength. Even with the other therapists having worked Pete's legs, this was not going to be easy. With Steve's help, Pete was able to sit on the edge of the bed, but already sweat was beading on his forehead.

"Not bad, not good either. You look like you've lost a lot of weight, have you?" Pete had lost quite a bit of weight; his ribs stuck up under his skin.

"Yeah, let's keep going." Pete was anxious to get on his feet; it was the first step towards getting out. Using his right hand to grip the edge of the bed, he tried to pull himself off the bed and onto his feet. He succeeded, but only because Steve was there to catch him.

The therapist shook his head, one hand on Pete's arm the other on his shoulder, steadying him. "This is going to take time"

O~O~O

"1 Adam-16, 1 Adam-16, a 211 in progress, at the market, fifth and Van Arden, handle code 3."

It wasn't their call, but Jim and Larry were close so they rolled as back-up; Kasak calling in their intention. As it happened, they arrived before Woods and Brinkman. Jim pulled the car to a stop near the front of the building; passenger side away from the market. He did it without thinking about the fact that he was giving Kasak the safer position behind the car. It was what Pete always did.

"We'll wait and hope they come out before we do anything. Sixteen should be here soon. Stay calm." Jim was hoping to use this 211 to show Kasak how being the back-up unit worked, but now they had point.

"Freeze, Police!" Jim yelled as a single suspect backed out of the market's door. He was too busy making sure that the store owner didn't call the cops to notice the black and white in the street. The suspect appeared to be turning, whether in a threatening move or just to see where the police officers were was an open question. Above the sound of sixteen's siren, Jim heard the sound of a single gunshot and saw the front window of the market crack around a bullet sized hole.

His first instinct was to shoot at the suspect; it took a fraction of a second for Jim to realize where the shot came from. Still, he kept his eyes on the suspect, who had thrown away his gun and dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks. Woods and Brinkman took control of the prisoner; leaving an obviously angry Reed to deal with whatever had happened before they arrived.

"Get in the car and stay there!" Jim was furious with the rookie and wanted to wring his neck, but there was an irate store manager to deal with first. Jim stood quietly while the manager let loose with a string of expletives directed at the rookie; only for a minute. "Sir? I'm sorry about your window; the department will pay for the damage. It was an accident."

"An accident? We're lucky that he didn't shoot me or my wife! What are you going to do about that idiot" Jim looked back at Kasak, even though he had no doubt who the manager meant by idiot. "If your partner were here, he would be cutting loose on that kid already."

"I'll take care of it Mr. May. Someone will be by to talk to you about the window. Officer Woods and Brinkman will take the report." The causal mention of Pete brought back memories of more than a few dressing downs Pete had given him. One thing he remembered most about those lectures was that they usually took place out of earshot of other officers and the public. Jim got into the car and drove away from the market; he stopped the unit in the parking lot of a closed factory. He took the mic in hand, putting them code six at that location.

"Now, tell me what happened."

O~O~O

Jean was getting ready to put Jimmy down for a nap when the doorbell rang. The four-year-old ran to open the door, but his mother grabbed him by the waist of his pants, pulling him back. Jean picked up the child and opened the door. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't a group of women, most of them were the wives of police officers.

"Hello Jean, sorry for the interruption but we would like to talk to you." It was Mary MacDonald who spoke up, but Jean recognized Anne Moore, Betty Wells, and Pam Woods; behind those four, stood Sally.

"I can't right now. It's Jimmy's naptime." Jean had an idea why they were there and she had no desire to discuss Pete with them. Mary waved a hand, calling forth a teenage girl.

"This is Elizabeth, my daughter; she'll take care of Jimmy for you." The women stepped closer, really giving Jean no choice but to open the door and let them in.

"Alright, come in and tell me what you five are doing here." On the slim chance that this wasn't being done because of what she said to Pete, Jean decided to play dumb. Then she got a good look at Sally as she came into the house; her cheek was swollen and she sported a black eye. "Sally, what happened to you"? Sally met Jean's glaze with a glare, but offered no explanation for the swollen cheek and black eye she sported.

"We know what you said to Pete and no, he didn't mean for us to know. Captain Moore was there when you left Pete's room." Pam Woods. who had taken a seat on the couch with Betty Wells and Anne Moore started the intervention.

"The only people who know are us, our husbands and you. We aren't going to tell anyone else, but you will listen to what we have to say." Betty continued. "You need to know what happened to Andy Baxter, but we aren't going to go into details."

"If Pete wants you to know, he'll tell you. We all lived through that time and the two things you need to know are that Pete was in no way at fault and that Andy's death nearly destroyed Pete." Mary MacDonald spoke from her spot on Jim's recliner. "Go on Anne."

"The toughest IAD investigations are the ones that investigate the death of an officer. Witnesses are questioned again and again; evidence analyzed six ways to Sunday. Nothing is missed and no one can wiggle their way out of responsibility for that death." Anne Moore paused for a moment to let that information sink in. "They put Pete through the wringer after Andy Baxter died. In the end, they decided that he wasn't at fault and that there was no way he could have prevented it."

"Bill went through an IAD investigation like that when he hit and killed the old woman who jumped in front of the squad car. It was horrible. They don't let officers off easy or with a slap on the wrist if they are responsible for another person's death; civilian or police officer." Mary MacDonald lived through both her husband and Pete's IAD investigations.

"Why would, Aggie, Baxter's sister-in-law say that Pete got him killed if it wasn't true?" Jean didn't know her as well as other friends, but they had known each other for a year or so.

"Pete's their bogeyman. It's easier to blame him than to admit that Baxter caused his own death." Pam Woods spoke up; she wasn't finished. "The real question is, why would you believe her when you know Pete better than most people?"

"I wanted to ask him about it." Considering the way she did "ask" it was a weak comment; Jean knew it was lame before she even said it.

"Ask him? Do you consider accusing him of being reckless with his partner's life asking?" Betty Wells was unique in one way in that her husband didn't know what happened; she had no intention of telling him either.

"I remember when Bill first told me about Pete. He said that Pete had the potential to go far in the department, but he was worried that he wouldn't survive long enough to make sergeant. He agreed with Val; Pete always put the lives of others ahead of his own." Mary MacDonald chimed in; they had to make Jean understand. It's not like they didn't all share the same fears.

"Including Ed's" Betty Wells laughed as she said it. The fact that most times Pete and Ed got along about as well as two stags in rut was well known in the division. "When Ed got shot, it was Pete who came up with the way that he and Jim saved Ed. He didn't hesitate to save someone who loved to taunt him."

"Did Jim tell you about the jackets during that rescue?" Pam had heard about it from her husband. When the only response she got from Jean was a head shake, Pam pressed on. "They used their jackets to block the windows; to keep the gunman from seeing into the car. Pete put them on the doors and he put his thick leather jacket on the rear door frame to protect Jim and Ed. He used Jim's much thinner cloth jacket as cover for himself."

"All four….five of us owe Pete for saving the lives of our husbands. I seem to remember a Medal of Valor he got for hiding in the trunk of a getaway car." Anne Moore was going in for the kill. "Do you really believe that Pete caused Andy Baxter's death or are you letting your fear control you?"

"We understand being afraid; we've all had to deal with the fear that our husbands might never come home again." Mary MacDonald reached out to rest a steadying hand on Jean's arm. "We've fought with them over it, put up walls to protect ourselves and cried ourselves to sleep. You're not alone."

"Val's safe now, mostly. Captains rarely get hurt, but there are days when my imagination runs wild with worry. I hear a siren and my heart pounds against my ribs; I know he's sitting behind a desk, but I worry anyway." Before knocking on the door the four wives agreed on a pointed attack; don't give Jean too much time to protest.

"After Ed made a reckless move and got shot, I begged him to stop working. How could he still risk everything for a job? These women and a few others made me finally accept that it's not a job, it's a calling that our husbands share." Betty Wells fixed her eyes on Jean.

"I'm lucky, Jerry has never been badly hurt, but he's still on the street. I kiss him goodbye and pray that he comes home one more day. Do you think any of us protest if our husbands said that they were resigning? The thing is we also know that we can't force them to change who they are." Pam joined the other two in fixing her gaze on Jean while Anne drove the point home.

"Do you really believe that Pete is capable of being reckless with another person's life, or is he the easiest target for your fear?" Now all four wives were waiting for an answer.

"Most times, I know he's not. He's family, but this last shooting was in my backyard with my son being held hostage." Jean began to wipe away tears with a shaking hand. "Aggie told me about Pete and I raced over there to confront him; I wasn't thinking."

"We understand, but you are hitting back at the wrong person." Anne Moore, who has dealt with being a police wife the longest, was the one chosen to finish defending Pete. "Johnson was here before anyone in the division knew he had escaped so you can't blame Pete for Johnson getting to Jimmy. Pete chose to die to save your son and husband; if he could have, he would have died for Baxter. I was there when he kept asking why it couldn't have been him who was killed." Anne had overheard more than one discussion after Baxter's death where Pete's unearned guilt caused him to say that he should have been the one to die. Her anger with Jean was real. "Considering all he's done for your family over the years, you owe him a hell of a lot more than an apology."

"I know", Jean sniffed, "He didn't even tell Jim what I said to him."

"Does that surprise you?" Mary MacDonald couldn't help herself; she had to add her two cents. "Why would he tell Jim something that would make you two fight; for fun? Pete doesn't do anything out of spite."

"I didn't mean to hurt him; I just want my family safe."

"Well, for someone who didn't mean to hurt him, you did a hell of a lot of damage." Sally had stayed quiet during this whole intervention, until now. Jean needed to hear the wives first before she was told the last piece. "You asked what happened to my eye. I was trying to get to Pete to wake him up from a nightmare before he started flailing about. I wasn't fast enough and caught a fist on the cheek. He relives finding Andy, sitting on the concrete holding him as he bled out and hitting another officer who tried to get him let go of Andy's body." Sally was so mad that she could spit. "So Jean, was your lapse into irrational fear worth putting Pete through the months of nightmares and undeserved guilt that he, and I, will be dealing with? I hope you're happy."

Jean ran into her bedroom but no one followed; they sat and waited. Eventually Jean came back and apologized to Sally. All six women spent the next two hours discussing their fears and how to handle them; together.


	11. Chapter 11

"Now, tell me what happened." While what Jim said wasn't at all threatening, the blue eyed glare he was giving Kasak would freeze an erupting volcano. Accident or intentional discharge, there was no excuse for the rookie firing that shot.

"Well Sir…" Kasak swallowed twice, trying to stall long enough for the answer to come out. Part of him was sure that this incident could get him fired; if not, he was still in big trouble.

"Spit it out so we can get back to the station and report this before MacDonald finds out from someone else. You're in enough trouble as it is. Don't make it worse." In the back of his mind, he was hearing the dressing downs he got from Pete and knew that he had to be as tough as Pete had been on him. "Did you mean to shoot at the suspect and miss or were you careless with your weapon?"

"It…it was an accident, Sir." Kasak was slowly sinking into the car seat; hoping to become invisible.

"An accident, you could have killed one of those people and you say it was an accident? How can you accidently fire your weapon?" At this point Jim wasn't sure which was worse, intentionally firing early or being a moron who shot the window out by accident.

"It's a new gun, Sir. I got it at graduation." The rookie sort of shrugged his shoulders, as if that was enough of an explanation to satisfy his training officer.

"And?" Clearly, Jim wasn't willing to jump to "it'll be alright" just yet. In fact, Jim wanted to shake the rest of the explanation out of the rookie; surely he hadn't driven Pete this crazy, right?

"I was getting ready to point the gun at the suspect when I realized that I've never shot this gun before. So, I thought I should check to see how hard the trigger was to pull." Kasak, his head hung down, sat in the passenger seat; unable or unwilling to look at his training officer.

"You were testing the trigger _**then**_? Didn't you listen when they taught weapon safety at the Academy? Always check a new weapon at the firing range before using it on duty. For all you knew, that gun might not have worked at all! You're lucky that guy panicked and tossed the gun before dropping to the ground." Jim paused for a breath before continuing. "He could have shot either one of us or both while you were holding a weapon that wouldn't fire. You might find this hard to believe, but I don't want to get shot because some rookie doesn't take the time to check to see if his weapon will work before having to point it at someone." As Jim's voice got louder, Kasak melted like an ice cream cone on a hot day. Jim took another deep breath and continued the lecture. "MacDonald is going to haul both our butts before a shooting review board for this! All because you were too stupid to check your weapon before you came to work! You're my responsibility so I'm going to get chewed out over this too. Don't forget the store owners, the Mays are not going to pay for that window, we are! Do you have any idea how much a large storefront window costs? Well, answer me!" Jim rarely got this angry, but when he did his ears turned a deep red and his voice dropped an octave.

"I'm sorry Sir; I thought it was best to test the trigger." Somewhere in the back of his mind Jim remembered Pete putting a curse on him; a wish that Jim would someday have a rookie just like him.

"You're not supposed to think yet Junior; it's when you start to think before you're supposed to, that you think yourself dead." Jim almost chuckled; he heard it before he said it.

O~O~O

Walters sat alone at the table outside of the taco stand. It was having lunch alone that made him hate working an L car. Bill looked up when he heard a woman call his name. She was what he would call a knock-out; a tall, pretty and well-endowed blonde. He knew her on sight as an old girlfriend of Pete's, now if only he could remember her name.

"Do you remember me? My name is Donna and I used to date Pete Malloy." She smiled at Walters as she took a seat across from him.

"I remember you, but didn't you move away?" One thing he did remember was that Donna had definitely wanted to marry Pete. He and Pete had hoisted a few beers to her departure.

"I did, to take care of my mother, but she's gone now so I moved back here last week. I was hoping that you would be willing to help me." She leaned over the table, giving Bill a full view of her cleavage. It was hard to not notice.

"Um…help you how?" He wondered if he should mention that he was a married man, but decided to let the flirtation go on a little longer; if only to find out what she wanted. Donna began twirling a finger in her hair.

"I've been trying to call Pete, just to see how he is. I even went over to his apartment, but Mrs. O'Brian chased me away with a broom. She wouldn't tell me how to get in touch of him." Donna let her finger slide down along her neck to touch the dip in her neckline. "Surely, you know where he is and how happy he will be to see me."

"You should know that Pete is involved with someone." Walters was trying to calculate the odds that Pete would want to see Donna versus the odds of Sally killing the flirt.

"I only wanted to say hello to an old friend, but not being able to get in touch with him is making me worried." She used her right hand to brush her hair behind her shoulder. "Please tell me where he is."

"Oh, well, he's in the hospital; has been for a few weeks, but they won't let you in to see him." She was making him uncomfortable and he didn't see any real harm in telling her that he was in the hospital.

"Central Receiving then, thank you." She flashed him another smile before leaving the table. Walters shook his head before returning to his lunch. Funny, she didn't ask why Pete was in the hospital in the first place.

O~O~O

"Pete?" Through a combination of lying and flirting, Donna had managed to find Pete's room. When he looked up she was leaning against the door frame, giving him a side view of her bust line and flashing him a come-hither smile.

"Donna? What are you doing here? How did you even know where I was?" She was about the last person he expected to see at his door; they hadn't parted on good terms, mostly because he didn't want to get involved with a long distance relationship. That and the fact that she wanted him to resign from the force, marry her and move to Maryland to take care of her mother; an older woman he met once and didn't particularly like.

"I see you remember my name; that's a good sign." Her voice was sultry and her walk had the same wiggle that made Marilyn Monroe famous. "I heard that you were in here so I thought I'd come and cheer you up." She had gotten close enough to lay a hand on Pete's right thigh and give it a squeeze. Looking past her for a second, Pete saw his nurse watching the attempt at seduction.

"That's nice of you, but how did you find me? No one is allowed to give out my room number." Pete reached down to lift her hand off his thigh without mentioning the pain her hand caused.

"Walters told me that you were in here. After that, I asked a male orderly on each floor until one told me that you were on that floor and what room you were in." She took a step closer, brushing her fingers up his chest. "What did you do to your shoulder?"

"The same thing I did to the rest of me." He took her hand, moving it off his chest. Pete decided then and there to give Walters a firm talking too. "Donna, it's nice to see you, but the answer is no."

"Ah Pete, did I ask you a question? Besides you aren't married yet; no ring." She was reaching to brush the cowlick from his forehead when Sally entered the room; it was pure luck that Pete was blocking Donna's attempt to play with his hair when Sally saw them. Without saying a word, Sally stepped around Donna (who had taken a step back to avoid interfering with Pete's nurse) and gave Pete a very passionate kiss. Then she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Pete, Honey, how about introducing your _friend_ to me?" Sally smiled sweetly as she ran her fingers through Pete's chest hair. Score one for Sally.

"I'm Donna. Pete and I spent _a lot_ of time together before I had to move away." While she didn't try to dislodge Sally, Donna did run her hand along Pete's right thigh. "Surely Pete has told you about _all those nights_ we spent together."

Pete wisely kept quiet, although he did let out a low groan at Donna's touch; whether from pain or from the situation is up to debate. He did remember many dates with Donna, but her emphasis on "spent together" made them see more meaningful than most of them were. Sally moved to the offensive side of the ball.

"I remember you, but shouldn't we leave the past where it belongs? Pete's changed, but you haven't; still chasing after other women's men or are you limiting your hunt to just Pete?" Sally knew a homewrecker when she saw one. She pulled Donna's hand from Pete's right thigh. "Stop that, you're hurting him." Score: Sally 2, Donna 0.

Pete has seen enough catfights on the job to know that the only safe place for the man was somewhere else. Since he couldn't escape the bed, he closed his eyes and tried to stay out of it. He also knew that Sally could take Donna in less than three rounds.

"Sorry Pete. I didn't know." Donna took a step back, resting her hand on his shin, turning back to Sally. "I don't see a ring on your finger so Pete's still in play, isn't that right Pete?"

Pete groaned, she would pull him into this mess. The nerve of her, after all he's been doing to try and stay out of it.

"No, he isn't _in play_. Why don't you try hunting someone else?" Sally took Pete's right hand in hers; she stood ready to defend her claim on the man in question.

"Why don't you let him answer or are you afraid he'll choose me?" Donna slipped her hand under the blanket; whatever her intended target was, Pete knew it was time to put a stop to this before Sally grabbed her.

"Donna, I am planning on marrying Sally. Please respect that and leave."

Both women were shocked by Pete's comment, but one of them had a smile on her face. The other stormed from the room.

O~O~O

"Hey, Dead Eye is here! Shoot out anymore windows kid?" There went any hope Jim had of getting back to the station before the word got out. If Wells knew about it, the world did. The sound of laughter followed them to MacDonald's office. Through the window of the office door, Mac waved both of them in.

"It's about time you two showed up. I thought I was going to have to put an APB out on the car." MacDonald stood up, pointing at the two chairs opposite the watch commander's desk. "Sit down. I don't want to hear what happened, yet. For now, tell me why Woods and Brinkman got back here before you two."

"That's my fault Mac; I wanted to hear from Larry why he took the shot so I stopped in an empty lot." The Sergeant's anger was making Jim rethink that decision.

"Why, because you wanted to get your stories straight before you talk to the detectives?" Mac slapped a hand on his desk to emphasize the point.

"That's not fair Mac. You know that I wouldn't do something like that." It was a cheap shot and they both knew it, although it made sense to give Mac the benefit of the doubt; he must already be taking some pressure over the incident.

"Sorry Reed, you're right, that wasn't fair. Tell me this; was this a problem with the weapon or carelessness?" It was the first thing everyone would want to know.

"A little of both Mac." Jim was starting to calm down enough to feel sorry for the rookie; he didn't like the thought that Kasak could lose his job less than a week after graduation.

"I am going to assume that you were reading him the riot act." Kasak was as dejected as any rookie Mac had ever seen. Not that the kid didn't have a reason to be worried; there would be consequences to this shooting. He stood, waving a hand towards the door. "Let's go. Everybody has been notified and Sergeants Miller and Powers are waiting to start the interview."

"Now, let me get this straight…." Jerry Miller sighed loudly while using his right hand to brush back the hair over his ear; they had been at it for over an hour. "You weren't sure that your gun would work, so you pulled the trigger to test it?"

"Yes Sir, I didn't mean to pull it hard enough for the gun to go off. It was easier than I thought it would be." Kasak couldn't help but see the expressions and looks the others in the room were exchanging; smirks and eye rolls had the rookie sure that his career was over.

"You are admitting to recklessly firing your weapon?" Miller was pressing the rookie, who sat trembling in his chair. "Is that your story?" After Jim had detailed everything the pair did during the hours prior to the shooting, he was asked to refrain from commenting while Kasak told his side of the incident.

"It was more stupid than reckless Sergeant." Reed had been through enough shooting "interviews" to see that this one was going badly for his young partner. "He was testing the give in the trigger. At least he took care to not point it in anyone's direction while he tested the weapon."

"Reed, stay out of it." MacDonald sat off to the side, along with Sgt. Murphy, who had been sent out to examine the damage and speak to witnesses. "We haven't figured out your responsibility in this mess, yet."


	12. Chapter 12

"So, we're getting married?" Sally stood to Pete's right; arms crossed with a stare could quiet thunder. She knew she had him and intended to make him squirm a little.

"Um…well…you see, I've been on the defensive side of Donna's full-court marriage press before and, well…nothing short of me saying that we were getting married would have gotten her to leave." Pete shifted uncomfortably; he was blushing from head to toe.

"It was a lie then? Here I thought you were honest to a fault and you casually lie to an old girlfriend?" It was a good thing that Pete wasn't looking at her too closely or he would notice her biting her cheek to keep from laughing.

"I am. Have I ever lied to you?" It was time to turn on the Irish charm. Pete gave her a lopsided grin while flashing those twinkling green eyes.

"Don't think you can give me a grin and make me forget what you said. I can't believe how easily that lie flowed from your lips." Sally narrowly averted grinning by turning sideways and gesturing towards the door with her right arm. "A lie and _poof _she's gone. How do I know you haven't pulled this kind of crap on me and I didn't know it?"

"Because I love you, that's how." It was then that Pete remembered his father telling him to keep a firm hold on Sally both because she was good for him and because she wouldn't let him get away with any crap. He hasn't meant to blurt it out like that, but he couldn't help it. "Besides, it wasn't a lie." Pete paused, waiting to see her reaction. "Are you happy now?"

"It would have been nice if you asked me before announcing it." Sally smiled, but she wasn't quite ready to let him off the hook. Pete reached a hand out to her; waiting until Sally took his hand in hers.

"That last night we were together, I almost asked you. I'd do it now, but I'm not sure that I have a right to ask you to marry me when neither of us knows what is going to happen when I get out of here." Their eyes met and she saw all the love he had for her in those sea-green eyes. "What kind of life would I be asking you to live; the life of a cop's wife or life with a disabled husband?"

"I don't care what happens; my love doesn't change because you got hurt." With her free hand, Sally softly brushed the rust colored stubble on his chin. "I'll take you any way I can get you."

"It matters to me. You might not understand, but I want us to go into marriage with our eyes open. If I end up on a disability pension our lives will be very different than if I manage to recover enough to still be on the force; even if it's not in a squad car anymore." Pete knew her well enough to see the protests forming in her head. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but the uncertainty of his future lay over his soul. He had to make her understand. "For all I know, hospital stays will be a big part of my life from now on."

"I don't care about that; cop or door-to-door salesman, it doesn't matter to me. I love you, not your job." Sally not only knew Pete well enough, but had been dealing with injured cops for years, so she expected this attitude from him.

"It's about more than my job. I want to marry you as my wife; not as a nurse. I can't choose what happens to me from here on, but you have the right to know what kind of marriage you would be entering. We don't know that yet." Pete really didn't want to make her commit to a life she might regret later on.

"I hope you aren't suggesting that I might marry you out of pity because you can forget that idea right now, Mister." Despite the seriousness of the discussion Pete almost laughed; Sally was giving him the same look that Sister Mary Peter gave him when she caught him running a crap game in the school chapel. Sally had her dander up. "If our places were reversed, would you marry me even if you didn't want to; out of a sense of responsibility or guilt?" Pete's silence spoke volumes. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"I'd make sure you were taken care of, but…the point is moot because I love you so much that marriage to you will always be my choice." She saw it in his expression; he was a creature of honor and would marry her once he made a commitment despite any life altering situations that might change his feelings.

"Would you think less of my love; that your injuries will diminish it?" As Pete prepared to protest her question, Sally took a seat on the bed, once again running her fingertips down his cheek. "Do you love me? Would you ask me today if we weren't in a hospital room?" As far as she was concerned, it was time to out-stubborn the rock.

"Yes, God I love coming home to you; even arguing with you is fun. I've never been happier." Pete knew for sure that he loved Sally when he realized that he never felt the need to guard his thoughts or feelings from her; the walls he kept up to protect himself were gone when he was with her. Sally laid her head on his shoulder; her arm around his chest.

"Then don't make me ask you."

O~O~O

Jim used his right arm to wipe the sweat from his brow; the cleanliness of his uniform was the least of his worries. So far, the detectives conducting the interview about Kasak's window shooting were concentrating on the rookie, but Jim's turn would come. While Kasak was the one who shot out the store window, he was Reed's responsibility. As Kasak's training officer everything the rookie said, wrote or did would come back to Jim's supervision of the probationer. That was especially true when the officer was a recent academy graduate not one with months on the job. Jim understood that, Pete had been very clear on the issue, still he didn't see how this could come down to a question of his judgement; _he_ was supposed to prevent this type of stupidity?

"Alright Reed, suppose you begin with your instructions to Kasak prior to the incident as they relate to his weapon and the possible use of it." In his almost twenty years on the job Sgt. Jerry Miller had considerable experience in interviewing officers after a shooting, this however was new. Kasak's misdeeds came down to: being reckless with his weapon, a failure to ensure that his equipment was in proper working condition and faulty judgement. Unfortunately, being stupid wasn't a viable conclusion Miller and Powers could make.

"Once we got to the scene, I instructed him to take up a position behind the car and to stay calm; we would wait for Woods and Brinkman to arrive. He did as he was trained to do, taking out his weapon, bracing it on the hood of the car and holding his position.

"Until he decided to test his weapon, you mean." Sgt. Powers, who had been taking notes on the interview, asked for the confirmation.

"Yes, up to that point." Jim was rapidly losing his patience with the process; how many ways can you ask about a mistake? "Once the 211 suspect came out of the store, I told Larry to stay calm and I yelled for the suspect to freeze."

"At this point, did you identify yourself as police officers?" Miller knew Reed well enough to read his reaction to the question. "Yes, I know it's a dumb question, but I have to ask it."

"I _believe _I said 'Police, freeze! If not, the fact that we were standing behind a squad car should have clued him in to that fact." The sarcastic tone of voice was noticed by all three sergeants in the room; MacDonald coughed out a warning.

"It was then that your partner fired his weapon?" Miller's use of the word partner in this question rubbed Reed the wrong way; his partner was in the hospital not running around shooting out windows.

"Yes, Kasak's discharge occurred at the same time that the suspect dropped his own weapon." Jim wanted to make sure that his questioners remember that the suspect in all this mess was armed.

"Did you have any indication beforehand that Kasak would test fire his weapon?" Miller continued his questioning. "Did you, as his training officer, ever ask him if he tested his gun before reporting for duty as this station?"

"Yes, I told him to wait for the worst possible moment to test his gun, geesh!" Jim stood up quickly, knocking the chair back against the wall. "Of course I didn't. Weapon safety is basic training at the Academy. How was I supposed to know to ask if he didn't follow instructions?" He left out a large sigh in frustration; only now remembering Pete's advice to assume that his rookie knows nothing. "Sorry, can we finish up soon?"

"I only have a few more questions I need to ask and then we need to go back to the scene. Do you need to call your wives?" Kasak wasn't married and Jim wasn't worried about getting home to Jean. He had already told her that he would be very late. Lately, that call would have provoked a tirade, but for some reason, Jean told him to take his time; she had something she wanted to finish anyway.

O~O~O

Pete was buried behind a pile of reports and manuals when Jean came into the room; accompanied by the aroma of fresh, strong coffee. That scent was enough to put a smile on his face as he piled the papers on the left side of the over-the-bed tray. That smile disappeared as he saw his visitor and was replaced it with a wary glance. It wasn't like she expected him to greet her warmly; they both knew that wasn't possible.

"Hello Pete." Jean made her way over to the bed, setting a large cup of coffee and a slice of her homemade apple pie on the right side of the tray. "Can we talk?"

"I don't know, can we?" For the moment, Pete left the coffee and pie where she set them down. He felt no compulsion to explain to her his hesitancy to talk as she knew as well as he did why he wasn't greeting her with a smile.

"Please don't shut me out Pete, I've come to apologize." She did seem different from the last time he had seen her, but that was no guarantee of change. Jean slid the pie and coffee long the tray towards Pete.

"Apologize for what?" His anger was visible, bubbling right below a stoic exterior. "For what you said about Andy and me or for the little digs I've been getting from you since the narco raid. I may have ignored them, but I heard them; every single one of them."

"Ah…I, well, I wasn't thinking about those things, just yet." Pete had caught her off-guard. She regretted those comments now, but had meant them at the time.

"Well, until you do, I'm not in the mood for any half-baked apologies." Pete reached out and nudged the coffee and pie back in Jean's direction. "You assumed the worst about me despite knowing me for five years. I don't consider that the act of a friend." Any thought he might have had of being easy on Jean died when his latest nightmare resulted in Sally's black eye.

"Aggie told me about Andy and I didn't think before I came here." Jean gave both the cup of coffee and the pie a little push towards Pete.

"That's the understatement of the decade. Considering all I've done to keep Jim safe, you owed me enough respect to _ask_ me what happened to Andy." Pete was sure that Jim hadn't told her about all the times he risked his life for him, but Jean did know that Pete had killed people to save Jim. He gave the pie and coffee another nudge towards Jean.

"You're right. I do owe you that much respect and more. I'd be a widow if it weren't for you. Please give me a chance Pete; don't shut me out, even if I deserve it." She picked up the coffee and pie, setting them down directly in front of Pete. "The coffee is getting cold."

"You'll excuse me if I'm not doing cartwheels over your still, non-existent apology." He slid the pie and coffee to the right edge of the tray. "Of course, it should go without saying that I would be able to do those cartwheels save for the bullets I took _not _protecting your husband and son."

"You aren't going to make this easy, are you?" She pushed the coffee and pie back towards Pete. He did notice that her hand was shaking slightly.

"Did you expect me to? You crossed a line with the accusation that I would get Jim killed like I got Andy killed." Once again, the pie and coffee got pushed in Jean's direction. "Have you ever known me to be reckless, about anything?"

"No, nothing, except perhaps with your own life." It wasn't an accusation; merely a statement of fact. She pushed the pie and coffee back at him once more. "You've risked your life to save more than a few husbands, including mine. Some of their wives came to visit me today to talk about you."

"That can't be good." True to his nature, Pete fell back on humor; he couldn't let a straight line like that go by without a laugh. This time, he didn't push away the proffered snack, but he didn't take it either.

"I guess it depends on your point of view." Jean semi-leaned back against the bed and tapped the pie and coffee even closer to Pete. "I'm sorry Pete. Please eat while I tell you what I learned."


	13. Chapter 13

Pete listened; not that he had a choice. Jean wouldn't leave on her own until she had her say and there was no way in hell that Pete would call hospital security for help. Mostly he listened because of one person: Jimmy. If he and Jean didn't come to an understanding it would exacerbate the Reed's marital difficulties. He knew he'd still see Jim, even if it was only when he came over to sleep on his couch. Jean, however, could keep him from seeing his Godson.

"Go ahead," Pete gestured with his right hand emphasizing his reluctant permission. He was still waiting for the apology from Jean. She better get there soon or Pete would lose what little patience he still possessed.

"I got a lesson about fear from five wives whose husbands work in your division. They all feel the same fears that I do, but I am wrong in the way that I deal with it. I thought that I could relieve that fear by forcing Jim to change his job. We talked about him trying for a promotion to detective. I thought that would make him safer and I could worry less." Jean paused to take a drink of water; slowly as if she was using the time to figure out her next comments.

"Eat the pie Pete, please." Jean pushed the plate of pie and cup of coffee even closer to Pete. "Then you got shot. Jim risked not only his life, but mine and Jimmy's when he saved you. Don't think that I wanted you to die; I'm glad that you are still around, most of the time anyway. A week after you returned to patrol Jim told me that he was going to stay where he was. I didn't see it as being his choice, but as an obligation he felt to protect you; he chose you over his family.

"That's not why he..."

"Pete, stop. Please let me finish. I promise to listen to you when you hear all I have to say." Jean cut Pete off and he wasn't happy about it.

"I can't defend myself? I need to listen to your story without saying anything?" Pete took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. Jean was getting dangerously close to the line. The only reason he kept his temper was still Jimmy. To keep seeing the boy was worth putting up with his mother, who still hadn't apologized.

"I couldn't see that Jim stayed on patrol because he loved the job. Instead, I started seeing you as the reason Jim wasn't taking the investigator's exam. He'd talk about how great it was to be riding with you again. I tried to get him to transfer to another division, to change partners, anything to separate the two of you." Jean couldn't stand still as she spoke. Instead she was making a small circle next to Pete's bed.

"I'll keep listening, but please stop pacing; you are making me dizzy." Pete couldn't believe what Jean seemed to be saying. She resents his friendship with Jim?"

"Jim and I kept going around in circles. I couldn't get past the fact that Jim didn't even think about Jimmy or me before he crawled into the line of fire. If Jim had died trying to save you where would Jimmy and I be? We'd fight until I got so mad that I would throw him out of the house. Then I found out he was going to you for a place to sleep. I couldn't believe…"

"He comes to me because he doesn't want his or your parents to be involved in your fights and because he knows that I won't ask any questions." Pete couldn't let that one pass without clarifying things; being accused of causing Jean's fears wasn't helping him keep his temper. He still hasn't heard an apology. "_I'm guilty_….I give my friend a couch to sleep on and I mind my own business. Lock me up and throw away the key!"

"Don't you see Pete; I needed something or someone to focus my fear on. I blamed you for Jim's actions that night. If you weren't so close to my husband he might not have risked his life for you." Jean paused once again unsure of what she should say. "You were the logical target so I started taking it out on you by making snide comments when Jim couldn't hear me. I let my fear of Jim being killed run away with me. It's not reasonable; it's emotional. I tried to control it, especially after what you did in my backyard." Jean lowered her head, focusing her attention on the floor; she couldn't look him in the eye. "Still, a part of me couldn't help but hope that you won't be allowed to get back into that squad car. That Jim would be safer with a partner he didn't care so much about. Then you made him a training officer."

"None of that explains why you would accuse me of being responsible for Andy's death." Pete had known for a long time that Jean's problem was the fear she had let control her. That's one of the reasons he ignored the little digs that came from Jean. Most of the time, she treated Pete the way you would treat a big brother. That's what galled him; she knew him better than most people and still she accused him of getting Andy Baxter killed.

"When Jim came home after his first night, he told me that you were going to resign because a friend was killed; he didn't say that the friend was your partner. Maybe he didn't want to frighten me; I might have worried more if I knew your last partner had been killed." Jean used her right hand to brush her hair behind her ear; it was a sign of her nervousness. "I was already thinking that you were putting Jim in danger by making him a training officer so when Aggie told me what happened to her brother-in-law, I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Humph, if that's your attempt at an apology you're doing a really lousy job of it. That was a heck of a jump you made." Pete wasn't calming down during Jean's excuses. If anything he was getting madder as evidence by his ears getting red. "You've known me for years, yet someone tells you a lie and you jump down my throat. Did you even have one thought that she might be lying?"

"No", Jean moved to the window to put some distance between her and Pete. "The other wives beat it into my head that I was making you the bogyman behind my fears. Once I did that, what Aggie said made perfect sense to me and upped my fear of Jim being a training officer; you forced him into the job so anything that might happen to him would be your fault."

"That's not the way it works and you know it. Every shift is a roll of the dice. If you can't handle that then you have a bigger problem than me." Pete's voice was getting deeper in pitch; an undeniable indicator that he was close to blowing his stack. "Andy's family can't face the fact that he made a mistake and he died for it. So they blame me. That's okay, they don't know me, but you do." Pete was practically spitting out the words. "I think I've proven that I'd die for Jim or Jimmy. If I could have, I would have died for Andy, but I didn't even know he was in the warehouse. He was ordered to stay outside and secure the door." He pinned Jean with a cold, green eyed glare. "By the way, I still haven't heard an apology."

"I…" Jean didn't know what to say. She grabbed a tissue from the bedside table to wipe the tears in her eyes. In all the years she knew Pete he had never said a cross word to her; never once seemed unsettled. Now he was yelling at her and that fact was enough to let her truly understand how much she had hurt him.

"I'm waiting…." Pete was giving her one more chance. Deep down he knew he might be permanently damaging his relationship with Jean, but he needed to hear an apology; it was the least thing she owed him. He saw the tears running down her cheeks, but were they for what she did to him or to him yelling at her?

"Pete, I'm sorry for what I said, but most of all, I'm sorry for taking out my fear on you. Nothing you've ever done has hurt me or mine; in fact it's the opposite. You've been there for Jim and Jimmy. What happened in our yard only proves that." Jean paused to wipe her tears. It also gave her time to see how Pete was reacting to her apology. "You were there whenever I needed you too; giving me a shoulder to cry on when Jim got hurt. You did work around the house when Jim couldn't do it or when he just needed help. You took being a Godfather seriously, loving my son as you would your own. For more reasons that I can count, you didn't deserve what I did to you. I brought back painful memories for you and you don't deserve that either. I'm sorry Pete, for what I did but mostly because I forgot who you are; the brother Jim and I never had. Can you forgive me Pete?"

Pete didn't answer right away. For a time, the only sound in the room was a steady four beat tapping noise. He was repeatedly hitting the bed rail one finger after the other; pinky finger to index finger. Pete had finally gotten his apology, but was that enough? He wasn't so sure that it was. What she did not only brought back horrible memories of that day; it also brought back the guilt he felt. In a situation like Andy's death, there are always "what ifs" to deal with. Pete had nearly driven himself crazy wondering if he should have done something different that day. If he had, would Andy still have died?

Jean stayed still, silently waiting until the silence grew uncomfortable. She didn't know what else to say to him; to make him believe that she was truly sorry. Eventually, she spoke.

"Pete?" Jean was silently praying that he would forgive her. Up until this moment, she hadn't realized how much she needed that forgiveness.

"Do you know what the worst part is? I will never know why Andy disobeyed my order; wondering if I should have done something else that night. Would he be alive if I had decided to search the right side of the warehouse first instead of going left? Should I have waited for back-up and risk the suspect getting away? Why did he pick that night to disobey an order? Questions that still haunt me; begging for answers I'll never get.

"I brought all that back, didn't I?" Jean was seeing a version of Pete that he never showed before. He wasn't falling back on a joke to avoid expressing his feelings. She knew then that she wouldn't be able to fully forgive herself for hurting him.

"It was never really gone; it lurks below the surface, showing up in my nightmares. I understand why you did what you did. I hope what the wives told you will help you and Jim to work this out, before my couch has a permanent Jim sized dent." Pete offered up a brief smile.

"I think we can avoid any more damage to your couch." Jean smiled back at him. He didn't need to say the words; Pete had forgiven her.


	14. Chapter 14

Meanwhile, things weren't going so well with the re-enactment of the shooting incident. For one thing, no matter how Kasak explained it, accidently shooting off his weapon was not in line with proper procedures. In addition, the "victim" wasn't hurt; he was, however still very angry. This fact wasn't lost on sergeants Miller and Mac Donald. It was hard to miss someone who bounced around the scene complaining about his window, the cost of replacing it and the stupidity of a certain policeman.

Initially, Mr. May focused his tirade on Reed, correctly believing him to be responsible for the rookie's actions. The problem was that Jim didn't have any answers that satisfied the man. What could he say other than that he was sorry for what happened, that the captain would determine any punishment for Kasak and that the department would pay for a new window pane. Apparently, the store owner felt that tar and feathering was a more appropriate punishment for the dejected rookie.

"Why are people standing around chatting? Certainly someone needs to yell at that rookie. He could have killed Kate and me." Jim had stepped in front of Kasak when he saw Mr. May storming over. As annoyed as he was at Larry, Jim knew from his own experience that the training officer protects their trainee from all dangers; including red faced store owners demanding the rookie's head on a platter. "What idiot put you in charge of a rookie? He needs to be fired along with dead-eye over there."

"Mr. May, I understand that you are upset, but it was an accident. No one was intentionally shooting at you or your wife." Jim wisely chose not to throw Pete under the bus by blaming him for Kasak being on patrol with him. Perhaps because he remembered Pete protecting him from irate citizens; at least until they were away from the scene and he could, ocassionally, tell Jim that the citizen was right.

'An accident, is that meant to be comforting to us? He wasn't shooting at us so it's okay?" The fact that Kasak wasn't aiming at them somehow made the man more irate. "Kate or I could have been killed because of his ineptitude with a gun. Don't they train you people to be careful with your weapon anymore?"

"Mr. May, please calm down. Yelling at Officer Reed isn't going to accomplish anything except interfering with our investigation." Jim was very grateful to Mac for interceding on his behalf. "Would you please go back into your store while we do this? I promise that we'll get out of your way soon."

Soon is a relative term; in this case it meant a little over an hour before they went back to the station. MacDonald told Kasak to assume that he was on administrative leave while the incident was being considered for possible punitive action. The captain would most likely make the leave official.

O~O~O

"They're going to fire me, aren't they?" Larry threw his tie into his open locker and slammed the door shut. "I am so stupid. Two days on the job and I'm gone. The guys I graduated with are going to laugh their heads off."

"You don't know that. I don't even know that." Jim was also changing out of his uniform; albeit less violently. It had been a long shift and all he wanted to do was to go home. Instead he found himself trying to reassure his young partner. "The captain isn't going to treat you the same way he would treat a veteran officer doing the same thing. You're allowed a few mistakes."

"I locked the keys and the shotgun in the trunk. I threw up all over you at the first sight of blood _and_ I shot a plate glass window. Two shifts and I'm going to win the pot." Larry had opened his locker again and continued to throw pieces of his uniform into it.

"The pot, I'm assuming that you don't mean marijuana, right?" Jim was almost positive that his trainee didn't mean the drug, but weirder things have happened.

"No. One guy in our class went to West Point where the cadet who graduates with the lowest class rank is called the goat. So we made our own version. Every member of our class put ten dollars in the pot and whoever gets fired first wins the two hundred ninety dollars." Larry was one of the most disturbed probationers Jim had ever seen.

"You don't know that. When Malloy was a rookie, one of the other rookies went off on his own and his TO had to rescue him by distracting the gunman. His TO took three bullets and ended up retiring on a medical pension. That rookie is still on the force." There was no reason to fill Kasak on the details of Art Macall's short lived return to duty. "When you look at it that way, shooting a window isn't that bad."

"That was what; twelve years ago? A different captain and a different chief training officer, right? " Jim nodded in agreement, but his answer was drowned out by the sound of a shoe hitting the inside of Larry's locker. "Yeah, but at the Academy they kept telling us that standards have gotten higher over the years. Would that guy have gotten away with it today?"

"I don't know, but what you did wasn't nearly as bad as what that rookie did. Relax; you're going to drive yourself nuts worrying. It's going to take a few days." Jim was ready to put his jacket on and go home, but he couldn't leave Larry when he was so upset. He couldn't help but remember all the times that Pete probably had better things to do instead of talking him through things. Pete never left him and he couldn't leave Larry.

"Can you help me? Talk to someone?" Kasak was clearly asking Jim to intervene in the process; something he wouldn't do. He seemed to be clinging to a false hope.

"I'm sure they will interview me again. I'll tell them the truth of what happened, but I can't influence their decision. That's beyond my power." Jim saw that little hope that Larry had fade as he answered the rookie.

"I know that you can't talk to the captain, but what about Malloy? He'll listen to you, right? I mean, he was your partner for a long time. He's got to listen to you." Larry was finally dressed to leave and followed as Jim started toward the door. Jim turned shaking his head.

"Malloy will do what he thinks is right, no matter what I say." Jim sighed; Larry was so desperate, but he couldn't give him false hope. "Let's go, I'll buy you a beer and we can talk."

O~O~O

Sally was surprised to find Pete asleep when she finally got to his room. True, she was later than usual; she had switched shifts with another nurse so that she could be in on the wives intervention with Jean. Still, it was only ten-thirty and Pete was notorious for fighting sleep; maybe it was because being in a hospital unnerved him. Sally knew that part of the reason that he fought tooth and nail against the staff was that it was his way of exerting control in a situation where almost nothing was in his control. For a cop, especially one used to taking command, that is a hard reality to deal with. She stood by his bedside, brushing her hand along his right shoulder; she had hoped to talk to him tonight.

"Dr. Franks had him sedated. He'll be out for a while." Carly, the night nurse had come in to check Pete's vitals when she saw Sally, who looked up confused. "After his therapy session this afternoon, he fell asleep and had another nightmare. It took two nurses to restrain him before he woke up. He wouldn't tell the doctor what it was about, so Franks ordered him sedated for his own protection. The last thing he needs is to be moving around like that." Sally took a step back to allow Carly to take Pete's temperature by sticking a thermometer under his arm. "Dr. Franks wants him to talk to someone about his shooting; hoping it will help him deal with what happened."

"That isn't what they're about. He doesn't remember anything about the shooting." Sally took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've been through this before. The only thing to do is to wait it out. Eventually they'll stop. Don't worry, I'll stay with him." A very skeptical nurse left Sally in charge of keeping an eye on her patient. After a while, Sally fell asleep in a reclining chair the hospital provides for the families of long care patients to make watching over them a little more comfortable. Somewhere after three, Sally woke to see Pete watching her and smiling.

"What are you smiling at?" Sally rubbed her eyes, shook her head and quickly moved to fix her hair.

"Nothing, I like watching you sleep. Is that a crime?" What he said was offset by the hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Don't give me that. I can tell when you are holding back. What are you up to?" Sally stood up, stretching a little before coming to stand by his bed.

"I was thinking that you don't look much like a river." Pete shifted to the left side of the bed to make room for her; pulling the blankets back to give her a chance to get under them.

"A river, what kind of drugs are they giving you?"

"The usual ones. Will you get under the covers please? It's cold in here." Sally shook her head as she climbed into the bed and slipped under the covers. Between Pete's grin and the spark in his eyes, she knew he was teasing her.

"It's not that cold in here. Are you going to explain that river comment or do I have to request a psychiatric exam for you?" Although she had climbed in bed with him Sally didn't immediately put her head on his shoulder. Instead she rested on one elbow to meet him eye to eye.

"I'm as sane as you are. " Pete met her eyes, daring her to contradict him. ""The South Branch, yeah, that seems to fit."

"What's a south branch? You're not making any sense." Sally was seriously considering pushing the call button to summon the nurse for him.

"I talked to my dad this morning." Pete's grin widened; he was enjoying this conversation way too much to get directly to the point.

"_What_?" These non-sequiturs were driving Sally to wonder if they had given Pete the wrong medication. Despite that, a part of Sally was glad to see that mischievous twinkle in his eyes; it has been a long time since she last saw him like this.

"You did remind me to call my parents, didn't you?"

"Are you telling me that your father, the rational man that he is, told you that I was a river?" Sally was no dummy; she knew she was being had.

"Metaphorically, yes, you are; for me, anyway." Pete's tone of voice had gotten serious, but his smile was still there and the love he had for her filled his eyes. "Pop and I talked about me; about us. He reminded me of something my Grandfather used to say when I was having a hard time making a decision." He paused for a moment, as if gauging her reaction so far. "He'd look me up and down before asking, 'Are you going to cross the Rubicon or drown in it?'."

"_I'm your Rubicon_?" Sally recognized the reference enough to give her an idea what Pete might be talking about. Was he really working up to that?

"In a way, yes; you, commitment, marriage are all one and the same. Pop made me realize what I was doing…" Pete left the sentence dangling as he watched her for any kind of reaction. Apparently, he was satisfied with what he saw in her eyes and chose to continue. "You said yesterday that I shouldn't force you into proposing; I won't do that. I was wrong when I said that we needed to wait."

"Are you asking me if I'll cross the Rubicon with you?" Pete felt Sally tremble when she wrapped her arm around his chest.

"Yeah, I am. Will you?" Pete tightened his grip on her, using both arms in an attempt to still the trembling. At that moment, Pete couldn't stop thinking that he almost lost her by asking her to wait.

"Will I what? You haven't asked me anything yet, Officer Malloy." Sally gave him the biggest grin; she wasn't going to let him off the hook. She had waited her whole life to hear those four words.

"Do I** _have_** to say it?" Pete took a deep breath and semi-huffed it back out. A year or so ago, Pete had come to the conclusion that he would never ask anyone that question. Somehow Sally had wormed her way past his best defenses. She was staring him down; yes, he did.

"Fine, but can we skip the getting down on one knee part, because that isn't happening anytime soon?" He chuckled at the look Sally was giving him; she was enjoying this as much as he was.

"Hmm, I'll let you slide on that part of it." She matched the mischief that was in Pete's eyes. His father was right about Sally being someone who wouldn't let him get away with any crap; nor would Pete let her slide when she tried to get away with something.

"Sally, will you marry me?" Sally tightened her grip on him, laid her head on his shoulder and began to softly cry; the tears warm on his chest. She was nodding her head in a teary affirmative., but Pete couldn't resist one more thing.

"You haven't said yes, yet."


	15. Chapter 15

Jean was okay with it; Jim was confused. Considering her attitude towards both his job in general and his new position as a training office Jim had expected a fight over his needing to stay late to talk with Larry. Instead, she was sweet and understanding, even promising to keep his dinner warm. What was she up to?

They met at the "Ale and Wich". It was an Irish pub that Pete frequently took him to when Jim needed to talk. With its dark wood ceiling beams and high backed booths the bar presented a relaxing atmosphere. The "Ale and Wich" wasn't a place to get drunk, but it was a place for friends to pass the evening in quiet conversation. The fact that it wasn't a bar cops usually frequented was also an advantage; no one would be around to add their two cents in or to tease the rookie.

Ninety minutes and two beers later, Larry was actually willing to entertain the notion that he would still have a job even though he shot out a store window. Without mentioning names, Jim told him a few stories about rookies' goof-ups: accidently shooting out the floor of the squad car with a shotgun, puking on a murder victim's body, denting the car by hitting a gas pump and letting a stolen car get away because the rookie misread the license plate. Granted, Kasak's first two days would live on in station lore as the prime example of how not to do things, but Jim wisely kept that thought to himself.

The conversation had one point of contention; Larry kept asking Jim to use his influence with Pete to push for a favorable outcome. He didn't seem to want to accept Jim's argument that Pete wouldn't be swayed by an appeal on Larry's behalf. In actuality, the decision would be made by the captain, not Pete, and Jim wasn't sure what effect Pete might have on the captain's decision. Regardless, Jim would not use his friendship with Pete on Larry's behalf.

O~O~O

Jim turned onto his street, pulled over to the side and turned the car off. It didn't make sense. Jean said that she understood his need to stay late to talk things out with Larry, then why was he nervous about going home? Perhaps it was the fact that ever since Jim risked his life to save Pete during that narco raid, Jean could flip moods faster than a trout dangling on a hook. Some little comment and Jean would be giving him a hard time about his job; demanding that he quit or at least leave patrol. This last year had taken a toll on their marriage and Jim was getting tired of walking around on eggshells. Why would tonight be any different?

Delaying the inevitable could only make things worse, so Jim turned the car back on and drove to his house. The lights in the living room and kitchen were on; curiously, so was the light in Jimmy's room. It was well past his son's bedtime. Was he giving his mother trouble over going to sleep or was the boy sick?

"Daddy!" Jim barely got the front door open when Jimmy came running out of the kitchen, crashing into his father's knees. He fell back against the door frame before grabbing his son and lifting the boy into a bear hug. Jimmy smelled of baby shampoo and toothpaste; he was dressed in his favorite Superman footed pajamas.

"Hey Sport. Where's Mommy; did you sneak out of bed?" Jim looked for his wife as his son shook his head, indicating that he hadn't escaped his room.

"He didn't. We decided that he could stay up long enough for you to read him a bedtime story." Jean came to his side, giving Jim a kiss on the cheek. "Dinner is almost ready, so off with you both."

Jim muttered a soft "Thank you". He didn't understand, but he'd take it. A few minutes later Jim was deep into "Horton Hatches an Egg". He had tucked Jimmy into bed and given him his favorite stuffed toy; a floppy eared dog. By the time Jim got to the ending line, "An elephant's faithful one hundred percent", Jimmy was asleep. Jim turned off the light and stood in the doorway watching his sleeping son; the boy he almost lost overa month or so ago. He whispered a soft prayer for Pete, who had given the boy both the book and the floppy dog.

Jim's stomach was grumbling as he entered the kitchen. Jean was wearing a pair of black pants and a light blue sweater, both of which accentuated her figure. He loved her in that outfit and she knew it, which only confused him more. Why the change?

"That smells delicious. Can I help you with anything?" A quick glance around the kitchen let him see the table was already set, including two candles in the center.

"I've got this, but I wouldn't mind if you lit the candles and opened the wine." Jean smiled ever so sweetly as she handed him the corkscrew.

"Um...okay." While curious about why Jean was being so different, Jim wasn't willing to ask her for fear of incurring her wrath once again. He opened the wine and poured them both a glass before taking a seat and lighting the candles; Jean had even put the matches on the table.

"Please carve the meat while I bring over the other dishes." Jean set a carving knife down next to the roast beef. "Remember to cut across the grain." It was a gentle reminder, not a hint of the exasperation she had recently been showing when he cut the meat with the grain.

With their plates loaded down with roast beef, baked potatoes, green beans and gravy, the couple bowed their heads in prayer. Jean followed the "Amen" by raising her glass of wine; waiting for Jim to raise his.

"Here's to our love and to friends who cared enough to make me see what I was doing to it." Her eyes welled up with tears as they tapped their glasses together. When Jim started to say something, Jean put a finger to his lips to quiet him.

"I was destroying our love because of my fear for your life. It wasn't rational, but I didn't think anyone else understood my worries; I thought I was alone." She paused to take a drink of wine, but it was a moment to remember the speech she had practiced all afternoon.

"Today, unannounced, I had some visitors. They were the wives of your watch members and Sally…they even brought someone to take care of Jimmy for me. Each one told me how they kiss their husbands goodbye before each shift and how their stomach tightens knowing that they might never see him again." Jim reached out to rest his hand upon hers; a gesture of support.

"Some of them told me how they felt when their husbands had gotten hurt. They wanted them to quit too, but other wives talked to them. See, we married our husbands because of the men they are inside – the things that make them need to be policemen; the desire to keep others safe. I forgot that about you. It's not right for me to try and make you change who you are."

"I love you and I am sorry." She didn't try to stop the tears that now flowed down her cheeks as she leaned into a deep kiss. Jim was dumbstruck; it was over? "Eat before it gets cold. I'll tell you the rest as we eat."

"There's more?" As far as Jim was concerned, what Jean had already said was more than he had hoped for, so what was left? Pete? Jim moved closer to Jean, putting his arm around her while they ate slowly, enjoying the comfortable feeling both had missed.

"Sally yelled at me." Jean volunteered sheepishly. She paused to drink a little wine before continuing. "She said that for someone who didn't mean to hurt Pete, I sure did a lot of damage." Jim chose not to respond, because he couldn't refute Sally's accusation; he had seen Pete after Jean's visit. "She's wrong. I did mean to hurt him. After what I heard from Aggie, I saw your friendship with Pete as the one most likely factor in your death. It's the worst thing I've done in a long time. Pete didn't deserve any of it; not what I said about his late partner and not for the things I said over the last year that he didn't tell you about." Jean used a napkin to wipe her tears.

"Did you tell him that?" Jim hadn't talked to Pete today, even though he meant to go see him. Maybe he should have waited to see if Jean volunteered this information, but he needed to know how she intended to deal with his partner from now on. He did smile though, realizing that "partner" still meant Pete.

"We talked. I apologized. He forgave me."

O~O~O

Originally, Jim had intended to visit Pete before reporting to the station to work the day watch, however, he and Jean had kept themselves busy for several hours after their late dinner. Three hours into the watch Jim had managed to convince his partner for the day to take seven at the hospital. Jim took the opportunity to ditch Brady to talk to Pete.

"Remember Pete, this is a lower dose of morphine than you are used to, so if you are still in pain in half an hour, call me and I'll give you the supplemental dose." The nurse, an older woman with white hair finished giving Pete an injection, rubbing her hand along his forearm in an effort to speed the progress of the medication into Pete's system. She waved to Jim to let him know that it was alright to enter while leaving Pete with an admonition, "Take it easy, please."

"What did she mean by that?" Jim arched a brow, giving his friend a look over. Most people would assume that the morphine had temporarily relieved his pain, but Jim saw the signs that others might miss; Pete was still in pain.

"She meant nothing. Geesh Jim." Pete moved like a caged animal, running his right hand through his hair as he shifted in the bed. "What are you doing here?" Pete knew the odds of getting Jim sidetracked that easily were slim, but you play the cards you are dealt.

"What, a friend can't come in to say hello?" Jim stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed; he wouldn't be deterred that easily. "You fight pain meds like Jimmy fights a bath, so what gives?"

Pete let out a deep sigh. Gone were the days when a stern glare was all he needed to put his younger partner in his place. Jim had become immune to it, most times, but it still scared the hell out of the rookies. "In the last hour, I've had physical therapy and an exam to evaluate the progress on my shoulder."

"In other words, you are in pain." Jim's voice held a mixture of emotions; satisfaction at getting Pete to almost admit to something he was trying to hide and worry that Pete was trying to hide it.

"Is _that_ a surprise to you?" Pete nodded towards the door. "Where's your partner? You didn't leave that rookie alone, did you?"

"Um…you mean nobody told you what happened?" Could it be that no one from the station had rushed to tell Pete the story? The whole division was laughing about it. Oh no, Pete was laughing.

"I think there was a race to see who could tell me first." Pete was laughing so hard that he wrapped his right arm around his stomach. It was the only sign that Pete felt some pain from laughing. "Wells was probably here before the detectives got to the scene."

"That figures. He couldn't stop laughing; both at Mr. May's tantrum and Larry's embarrassment." Jim started pacing; a sure sign that he was frustrated. "It was a stupid mistake and Wells kept taunting Larry saying "bye, bye kid". Jim spun on his toe so that he was facing Pete. "I spent an hour and a half at the bar trying to convince Larry that he wouldn't be fired over this. He's scared Pete."

"You took him to the "Ale and Wich"? Over the years, Pete and Jim had spent time in more than a few bars, but there was only one they went to for heart to heart talks. Apparently, Jim was going to continue the tradition; Pete's own training officer, now Captain Moore, had taken him there to talk things over after a bad shift. He had taken Andy there too.

"Where else would I take him?" Jim flashed a grin and spread his hands a little to the side; a gesture that acknowledged Pete's assumption as being correct.

"How's the kid doing?" Pete was still laughing, only toning it down a bit. "I mean, his first two days are one for the history books."

"I'm glad you find this so funny. IAD had us there for hours. Then we had to go back to Mays' Grocery and hear from him again." Jim raised his hand; pointing his index finger at himself. "You made me responsible for that kid, now look where I am!"

"Welcome to the joys of being a training officer." Jim wasn't about to let Pete off the hook.

"You did this. You gave me a rookie you knew would drive me crazy, didn't you?" Jim should have expected the end result; Pete laughed harder. "He even flirts with women, too."

"_All_ rookies drive their TOs crazy. It comes with the job, along with hand-holding, babysitting, evaluating them, defending them in front of the rest of the station and keeping them alive." The look in Pete's eyes said it all; he was remembering fondly all the screw-ups Jim made. "It's the hardest job on patrol, but it's also the best one."

"He's afraid the captain is going to violate his probation. He's really scared Pete."

"I'm assuming that you told him it wasn't going to happen, because that kid has job security …at least until he reimburses the department for the cost of the window." This time Jim laughed right along with Pete. It felt good; he was now realizing how funny his two days with Larry Kasak had been.

"Ah…he kept asking me to talk to you; hoping that you would use your influence with the captain." Jim really didn't want to bring this up, but he felt an obligation to let Pete know there might be talk if things went bad for Larry.

"Are you asking me to intervene in the process? If so, I think you both over estimate any leverage I might have with the skipper." This time, Jim did react to Pete's glare, taking a step back.

"Of course not, but I thought you needed to know that if Larry gets the boot, he might bring you up as being part of the decision to fire him." Jim had grabbed the bed railing and Pete couldn't help but notice the slight shaking of the railing.

"I'm sure that my name will come up. That happens every time a rookie gets punished; it's good for my reputation as a tyrant." Pete paused long enough to pour himself some water; taking a few gulps to help relieve a dry throat. "I'm not sure if the captain will even ask my opinion on the shooting. I'm stuck in here and didn't see what happened."

"Yes he will, if he doesn't fire him outright. Look, I'm not asking you to try to get him off light, but I'd like to know what you think the captain will do so I can prepare the kid." Pete knew that feeling. It was why he spoke to Moore about the dent Jim put in the car.

"My guess is that the captain will have him come in for a few extra shifts without pay. Suspending him would be counter-productive; he needs the training more than sitting home doing nothing." Jim let out a sigh, suddenly realizing that he was holding his breath.

"Thanks Pete. Jean told me that she talked to you. Is everything okay?

"Everything is fine. Jean and I worked it out, I got engaged last night and they are operating on my shoulder the day after tomorrow. Happy now?" Pete flashed Jim a mischievous grin; had Jim noticed.

"Why are they operating again? I thought your shoulder was doing okay. Did you make it worse by moving around?" It wasn't lost on Pete that Jim was talking to him the same way that he talks to Jimmy when he is in trouble.

"They were always going to have to operate again. It's the only way I'll have a chance of getting back full range of motion in the arm."

"Hey Reed, let's get going. Seven's over." Brady stuck his head in the door and pointed to his watch. "Hi Pete."

"Okay, okay. I want to hear more about this operation when I see you again." Jim was almost out the door when it hit him. "What was that other thing you said?"

"Go! Brady is waiting."


	16. Chapter 16

Pete couldn't have said what Jim thought he said, or had he? Either way, Jim had no intention of leaving the hospital until he could pin Pete down. Brady, however, was busy trying to pull Jim down the hallway; insisting that seven was over and that Mac would have their hides for going over the allotted forty-five minutes.

"Hold your horses; I need to ask Pete something." Jim knew that unless he asked Pete, he would spend the rest of his shift wondering if Pete had actually said that he was engaged to Sally. How dare he drop something like that into the middle of a list? Deep down, Jim knew that Pete was teasing him; his truthfulness or lack thereof was yet to be determined.

"You heard Mac at roll call. He asked us to keep seven to thirty minutes or less because we're short-handed today." Brady clearly didn't want to test MacDonald's threatened "double" to anyone who didn't get with the program. "What is so urgent that it can't wait till we're off duty?"

"_Nothing_, let's go." While this was the first shift Brady had ever ridden with Jim, he knew the man well enough to read into his clipped reply; whatever it was, it was something.

O~O~O

Meanwhile, Pete was using a fork to poke at his lunch; unsure if what he was served could reasonably be called food. He was no longer getting three meals a day courtesy of the officers' wives now that his dietary restrictions allowed the kitchen to send him more than a liquid diet. However, "bland food" definitely lived up to its name.

"Officer Malloy, are you planning on eating any of that?" One of today's nurses, a recently minted RN named Eileen, had come into Pete's room as he pushed the tray of food away from his bed. "You didn't eat breakfast either."

"It's Pete, not Officer Malloy, please." He's already asked her twice to call him by his first name; hopefully, she would respect his request before her shift was over. "And no, I am not going to eat whatever that is. I'll wait for dinner, thanks."

"Dr. Franks will not be happy with you for skipping meals." Her tone of voice made it obvious that she agreed with his decision to skip his mystery meat, soggy broccoli and unbuttered mashed potatoes. "You have one excuse that might work with him. Dr. Torrens called a few minutes ago. He's had to cancel an operation set for this afternoon because the patient has a fever. Do you want to move up your surgery to today?"

"I knew there had to be a good reason that today's food was so disgusting, now I know why. Yes, tell him the sooner the better." Pete tried to roll his left shoulder; after so many weeks it had become a reflex to any mention of his injury. It didn't go well. The bullet that severed the artery in his shoulder also damaged the rotator cuff. Torrens had hoped that the damage would heal on its' own, but that wasn't happening. If this operation didn't fix the problem, Pete wouldn't have a prayer of returning to full duty.

"He thought that might be your answer." Eileen reached into her pocket and pulled out two syringes; which she started to inject into his IV port. "Before you complain, this first one is an antibiotic the doctor ordered as a precaution. This one…" Dr. Torrens warned her that Pete might argue vehemently against the second shot so she waited to tell him until it was going into his vein. "…is a pre-op sedative – to keep you relaxed until the orderlies come to take you upstairs."

"I would protest, but you've already injected me with it. Do they teach you that trick in nursing school?" Pete was starting to feel the effects of the sedative and while it was nice to have a lot less pain, he still wasn't pleased with having it snuck into his body. Whether he did it out of habit or meant it, Pete pinned her with a glare designed to intimidate the most know-it-all rookies. "I do have a right to refuse sedation, you know."

"Um...well…" Apparently, the glare not only worked on rookies, but on young nurses, Eileen took two steps back and stammered. "It…well, Dr. Torrens' order was to do it that way. Sorry." In the time it took for her to grab the uneaten lunch and leave, Pete had settled into a drug induced fog; which is how Mac found him ten minutes later.

"Pete?" Mac stopped halfway through the door, unsure if he should wake his friend up, but this really couldn't wait. For once, Pete actually looked peaceful.

"Mac?" Pete slowly opened one eye, saw a blurry figure and instantly closed it. This side effect was one of the reasons that he hated taking any medications; aspirins were usually his limit.

"Pete, are you alright?" Mac slowly entered the room; a manila envelope held under one arm. Something was definitely strange. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Pete was stoned.

"Terrific." Pete's deadpanned response broke Mac up; he was definitely high on something. Any doubt he might have had was gone once Pete made the following request: "Would you please stop moving? It makes you blurrier."

"What are you on…and why are you on it?" Mac stopped laughing and began to worry. It wasn't like his friend to allow himself to get over-medicated.

"Stupid nurse tricked me…." Pete was rubbing his eyes with his right hand in an attempt to clear up his vision. "…gonna report her."

"Is your pain getting worse?" Jim had expressed some concern that Pete was pushing himself too hard in physical therapy. Had he hurt himself again?

"Nope, gone…all gone." After a series of yawns, Pete shut his eyes and started to fall asleep.

"Pete, wake up. I need to talk to you." MacDonald grabbed Pete's good shoulder and shook his drowsy friend. The truth was that seeing Pete in this condition worried the sergeant. "I'm going to go get you some coffee and then we'll talk."

"No…no coffee...not allowed." Pete jerked he shoulder out from beneath the sergeant's grip, opened his eyes and actually made an attempt to glare at Mac Donald. "Might throw up."

"Coffee doesn't make you throw up. You know that." Exasperated, Mac let out a large sigh, while Pete pulled the blanket up to his chin and once more closed his eyes. The sergeant had already discarded his first impulse, which was to go find a nurse for an explanation. He was afraid that if he left Pete now, his friend would be even more uncooperative when Mac got back to the room. "Pete, I need you to pay attention. Can you do that?"

"Whatever you want from him Mac, you better get it soon." Sally, who had been leaning against the doorframe, was clearly enjoying the show. She shook her head and chuckled, "He's only going to get worse the longer you wait."

"Sally, what's wrong with him? It's not like Pete to let himself get this doped up." Mac crossed over to the door, noticing as he did that Pete had begun to softly snore. "I need him to sign this letter, today." He held up the Manilla envelope for Sally to see.

"I can try and get him to sign it later. They sedated him because the orderlies will be coming down to take him to the O.R. soon. Dr. Torrens is going to try to repair the rotator cuff in his shoulder." Sally had moved to Pete's bedside; running her hand along his good arm. "I was hoping to get here to see him before he was this out of it."

"I thought they were going to wait to see if it heals on its own." Weeks ago, Dr. Torrens had spoken to Mac explaining the problem with Pete's shoulder. In its current condition, it was impossible for Pete to lift his arm above his head.

"Shush." Apparently, Pete wasn't asleep anymore. "…still not working." Sally leaned down to whisper in Pete's ear.

"Pete…Honey, Mac needs you to pay attention. Can you do that?"

"Do I have to?" Pete grumbled, waving his right hand to shoo Mac away. Despite his reluctance to cooperate, Pete did make the attempt; opening his eyes to look up at Sally.

"Yes. Here." Mac quickly moved in, he wasn't about to miss his chance to get Pete to sign the document. He placed a pen in his friend's hand and held it over a piece of paper on the tray. "Sign your name." In a few seconds, Mac had the requested signature. It wasn't very legible and it didn't stay on the line, but it was passable; the capital letters P, J and M were identifiable, sort of.

"What did he just sign? He's going to want to know when he wakes up." Sally was starting to have second thoughts. Should she have read the paper before letting Pete sign it?

"It's a letter to the courts requesting a postponement of a trial until Pete is well enough to testify. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem, but the DA wants to keep the defendant in the city jail until the trial – for Pete's safety." Mac slid the document back into the envelope. "I have to take this to the DA, but I'll come back and stay the night with him."

"You don't have to Mac. I'll be here in case he wakes up." Sally had taken a protective stand, taking Pete's hand in hers, not that he noticed. "Unless you think he is in danger." Mac was already halfway to the door, but he turned back towards Sally.

"He's not, but watching over him after surgery has become a habit." After so many nights spent watching over Pete, it was also a superstition.

O~O~O

After Mac left and they took Pete to surgery, Sally found that she couldn't sit still. The empty rooms, both Pete's room and the surgery waiting room, gave her the feeling that the walls were closing in on her. Knowing exactly what was being done to her _fiancé_ was worse than being kept in the dark. She did smile once, having wondered if that word would ever apply to anyone she dated. There were times there, that she thought she would be single forever; an opinion her mother and aunts frequently expressed, while arguing that Sally was too picky.

In order to keep herself busy, Sally went down to the ER to work; it would keep her mind off some of her darker thoughts. Although Pete had assured her that he would gladly trade his career for Jimmy's life, Sally knew that sometimes intentions faltered when faced with reality. She wondered if anyone, even Pete, was ready to accept a forced reset of their lives.

When the call came from the Recovery room, Sally finished bandaging up a little boy as he sniffled back his tears. He had been running with his dog and tripped over the leash; tearing his arm on a chain link fence. So far, Sally had been biting the inside of her mouth to avoid saying something to the boy's mother. When the mother told her son that she was going to give away the dog if he couldn't walk him properly, Sally couldn't keep quiet; pointing out that a five year old boy shouldn't be expected to safely walk a large German Shepard on his own. The mother left in a huff, but Sally felt better.

They didn't bring Pete back to his room for almost two hours after Sally was told that he was in the recovery room. She had spoken to Dr. Torrens, who was optimistic that, given time, Pete would regain full motion in his shoulder. The doctor's assertion had one very positive result on Sally; easing the fear she had that Pete would change his mind about marriage if he considered himself damaged goods.

Sally was standing by the window watching the sun set, when Jim came into the room. He was about to say something when he got a good look at Pete. That morning, Pete was wearing his usual sling, but now his entire left shoulder was covered in bandages; his arm strapped across his chest so tight that Jim checked to see if the blood to his hand was restricted. Had Pete somehow made the injury worse?

"Sally, what happened to Pete? Did he hurt himself again? He was okay this morning." As he got closer to the bed, Jim saw that there was a partial cast under the bandages, restricting the shoulder's movements.

"No", Sally chuckled. "He's stuck in bed, how is he supposed to hurt himself when he can't get out of it without help?" Jim wasn't sure that laughter should accompany a comment like that, but he let it slide. This last month had been very hard on her too. "They operated on his rotator cuff today instead of waiting a few more days." Jim didn't have to say it; the look on his face showed the worry that moving up the surgery caused. "Relax, the doctor had an opening."

"How did it go?" Jim unconsciously rested his left hand on Pete's shin; wanting a connection with his best friend, in case the news was bad.

"Torrens said that if he works hard at PT that he should get back full use of his arm. I'm depending on you to push him." Sally was definitely spending too much time around Pete; she gave Jim a very Pete-like glare that dared him to refuse to help.

"That's great! I'll give him a hard time if he doesn't, if only to get back at him for sticking me with a rookie." Then Jim got very quiet; looking from Sally to Pete and back to Sally. Should he ask her? "When do you think he'll be awake? I need to talk to him about something."

"He might sleep till morning. Is something wrong? Besides your rookie, that is." Sally couldn't keep from laughing. Pete had told her everything Jim and the other officers told him.

"Not you too." Jim shook his head; apparently he would never stop hearing about Larry's first two days under Jim's supervision. "It's not about that…um…Pete said something this morning."

"I'm sure he did. Can you be a little more specific?" Sally knew exactly what Pete had said to Jim and how he did it. Pete thoroughly enjoyed sneaking the engagement announcement past Jim and there was no way that she would ruin Pete's fun. Besides, she could have some fun with Jim too.

"Is there anything that you want to tell me?" Jim tilted his head to the side as he studied Sally. Would she volunteer the information? Would she answer him if he asked her a direct question? She smiled so sweetly but there was a definite air of mischief about her.

"I can't think of anything."


	17. Chapter 17

For the moment, Jim gave up on trying to get Sally to confirm that she and Pete were engaged. She was ignoring his subtle questioning. He thought that he might distract her with a charming Jimmy story.

"I was watching Jimmy the other day while Jean went shopping. There was this great ball game on so I let Jimmy play in his room; or so I thought." Jim gave her this sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, I was eating cheese puffs and Jimmy kept coming out to take one and run back down the hall. I didn't really pay attention to how many he was taking…."

"Please tell me that you didn't let him get sick on cheese puffs." Sally knew from experience that both Jim and Pete could ignore a barking Great Dane, if the ball game was exciting enough.

"Worse…Jimmy wasn't eating them as much as stashing them away." Sally started laughing; she had an idea where this story was going. "Jean collects any coins I leave laying around the house and puts them in one of those big water cooler jugs. Every couple of days she will open her closet and put the coins into the jug." Jim paused, silently wishing that he could blame Jimmy's latest escapade on anyone but himself. "I kept telling her to not put water in the jug, but she said that it discouraged theft. What it didn't discourage was Jimmy stuffing cheese puffs in with the coins!"

"Oh no! I hope it wasn't too many puffs." Sally snuck a glance at the still sleeping Pete, who knew all about Jean's jug of water that was "crying out" for something to be floating in it.

"There were five inches of soggy cheese puffs on top of the coins. It took me hours to clean that mess up. Plus I found marbles mixed in with the coins in the bottle. Jim nodded towards Pete. "Unlike spitting and learning the S-word, I can't blame this one on Pete."

Sally decided that it was a stroke of luck that Pete wasn't awake to try and deny any involvement in Jimmy's latest caper. She would be sure to tell him later, once Jim was gone.

O~O~O

Sergeant MacDonald arrived at Pete's room as the hospital PA system announced the end of visiting hours. Wearing comfortable clothing - blue jeans, a check pattern flannel shirt,cowboy boots - Mac was ready to spend the night. He handed Sally a cup of coffee and kept the other one he had brought.

"Sorry Jim. I didn't bring you one. If you want some coffee, I'll stay with Sally while you go down to the cafeteria to get yourself a cup." Mac took a preventive gulp from his own coffee; insuring that Jim wouldn't want it.

"I'm good. They brought Pete some with his dinner." Jim motioned to the empty plate, coffee mug and Jello container on the bedside tray. "It was going to go to waste otherwise."

"That's assuming that he won't want his food when he wakes up." Sally chimed in; busting Jim could be fun.

"Isn't stealing Pete's food a capital offense?" Mac's attempt at being stern was failing miserably. He stepped closer to the bed. "How'd the operation go?" The way Pete's shoulder was trussed up and strapped down was somewhat worrying.

"He's fine Mac. Doctor Torrens was able to repair the rotator cuff. It will take time, but if he works hard enough at physical therapy, he'll get back full use of his arm." Sally's answer brought a smile to Mac's face. Until that second, he hadn't been able to shake the fear that he had worked his last shift with Pete.

The three of them spent the next four hours in quiet conversation; no one wanted to wake Pete up. Every half hour or so, Jim went fishing for information on Sally and Pete.

"Are you sure Pete didn't say anything to you today?" This time his target was Mac, who had mentioned seeing Pete earlier in the day.

"I told you Jim, he didn't say much and what he did say wasn't exactly coherent. Why do you keep asking Sally or me about what Pete might have told us?" There was a gruff tone to his question; sergeants aren't fond of having to repeat themselves.

"I…he, ah…said something to me, I think." Jim was answering Mac, but he turned his gaze toward Sally. Should he come out and ask her? Sally's smile said it all; she knew what Pete told Jim and she wasn't going to spill the beans.

"Hey Jim, why don't you tell Mac about Jimmy and the cheese puffs?" Sally actually laughed harder this time because she didn't have to pretend that she didn't already know about Jean's coin jug. By the end Mac was laughing and Jim's ears had turned beet red. Unseen by Jim, Mac arched a brow, with a nod towards Pete. The question was obvious; Mac was almost positive that his sleeping friend had something to do with Jimmy's caper. Sally shrugged her shoulders. The gesture suggested that she didn't know if Pete did it, but there was a spark of mischief in her eyes.

O~O~O

Mac's stomach continued to grumble. An hour ago Jim and Sally had finally decided to go down to the cafeteria for some coffee and a bite to eat, having promised to bring something back for Mac. It was now close to four in the morning and he was quickly losing patience. His decision to go look in the hallway for a random nurse to keep an eye on Pete for him, didn't go so well. After sitting in the same chair for hours Mac's left leg had fallen asleep; making his standing up slightly difficult. Mac grabbed the bed rail in order to get his balance. Whether it was the noise or the shaking of the bed, it woke Pete up.

Pete shook his head and opened his eyes. It took him a few seconds to spot MacDonald in the darkened room, but he did see him. "Mac?"

"I'm here, sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep." It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Pete; it was more in the line of not wanting Sally to chastise him for waking up his friend.

"No, not yet. Would you mind getting me some water?" Pete cleared his throat; a dry mouth was the result of the anesthesia they used to knock him out. Mac poured him a glass of water, stuck a straw in it and held it out to Pete. They barely managed to not spill it all over the bed since Pete's hand was shaking. Despite hating to be fussed over, Pete let Mac hold the glass while he drank.

"Thanks. What time is it?" He had no idea how long ago the operation was, but he could see the moonlight lighting the room.

"It's almost four. How's the shoulder?" Mac gave a brief thought to calling the nurse to give Pete pain medication, but decided to wait to see it he needed it.

"You tell me." Pete was looking down at his left shoulder. It was impossible to move as the doctor had pinned his arm down tight. Doctor Torrens didn't want to take the chance that Pete would damage his arm by moving it.

"It's okay, Pete. Your doctor was able to repair the rotator cuff." The meaning wasn't lost on Mac when Pete leaned his head back, closed his eyes and sighed. Although Pete kept saying that he was willing to deal with the result of his actions that sigh showed how much he feared losing the full use of his arm. They both knew that he wouldn't be able to return to work if the operation went bad. "You are going to have to work hard to get it back in shape and I'll kick your butt if you don't."

"I'd like to see you try." Both men laughed; what's a little bravado between friends? "Where's Sally? I expected both of you to be watching over me tonight."

"Jim and Sally went downstairs to get something to eat." Mac took a quick look around to make sure they weren't coming back yet before he asked the question. "What Is Jim trying to get Sally to say?"

"I don't know Mac. I've been out of it most of the day." He knew exactly what Jim wanted Sally to tell him, but he wasn't giving up that tidbit of information so easily.

"Uh huh," Pete's old partner smiled when Pete wouldn't look at him as he denied knowing what Jim wanted to know. "So, when did you and Sally get engaged?"

"What day is it?" He wasn't trying to stall answering Mac Donald, it was an actual question; time has been getting away from him after so many days stuck in a hospital room.

"It's Friday morning." Mac stood at the foot of the bed, forcing Pete to look right at him. He also added that "sergeant" tone of voice that demanded an answer. "Spill it."

"It was Wednesday night, after visiting hours were over." Pete's smile seemed genuine, but Mac wondered why propose now?

"I'm happy for you Pete. I'll admit that I never thought you would ever take that last step with anyone." Since the day they met ten years ago, their friendship was based on honesty; now wasn't the time to keep his hesitations to himself. "Are you sure that this is what you want and not the result of your shooting?"

"Almost dying did play into it Mac, but not for the reason you might be thinking." Pete paused, this time managing to drink water without Mac's assistance. "My thoughts were going this way before I got shot. We've been practically living together for a while now." How to explain it? "Being with Sally feels right; we're both better people and stronger inside because we're together. I never found that in the other women I've dated. Plus, she makes me laugh."

"I understand that. My question is still the same. You asked her before the surgery. The last time we talked about this, you weren't sure if you should ask her before you knew what life would be like if you couldn't return to work. What changed your mind?" Mac's questions weren't meant so much for his information, but to make sure that Pete had fully thought this move out.

"My encounter with Tony Johnson brought into focus my hesitation to commit and what that cost me. I lost years with Sally and almost lost our future together. So yes, it made me realize how _stupid_ I was for not asking her to marry me before now." Pete took time to grab another sip of water." Sally and I talked about it and we decided to face whatever happens together." Pete wasn't bothered by the questions simply because Mac was the only person, aside from his father, who would dare to ask them. He asked them out of deep concern for his former partner, who had become so much more than a friend.

"Okay then, congratulations to you both. Can I tell Mary about this or do you want to tell her and the kids? Why isn't Jim sure you told him about this? You did tell him, right?" Mac knew there had to be a good reason for Jim's confusion. After a little more prodding, Pete told him what he did to Jim; a move that Mac laughingly said was cruel.

"I don't care if you tell Mary and the kids, but can you keep it secret for a while?" It was a hard question for Mac because he wanted so much to spread the word; the Strawberry Fox finally got caught. Pete saw the hesitation in his old friend. "We're not planning on getting married for probably a year."

"Why wait so long? You aren't planning on a big wedding, are you?"

"No, it will be mostly family and a few close friends." Pete knew that Sally would marry him today, in this room, but he saw the look in her eyes at her niece's wedding. Sally had once told him that it was her dream to be married in that chapel; he wanted to give her that. Admitting that would be more sentimental than Pete was willing to be. There was one other, non-sentimental excuse for Pete and Sally to wait. He was sure that Mac would understand that.

"Sally is old fashioned. She would like her husband to be able to walk her back up the aisle, dance at the reception and participate in all post-reception gymnastics."

**A/N The cheese puff incident really happened. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N. I have rewritten parts of Chapter 17. I suggest you reread that chapter before starting this one. ~J~**

"I might let Jim stew some more; pretend to still be asleep." Pete and Mac were enjoying a laugh over Pete having snuck the announcement of his engagement by Jim. After almost five years of having Jim extol the virtues of marriage, Pete thought his young partner deserved a little payback. _Five years_ of having Jean's girlfriends foisted on him had probably done more to foster Pete's aversion to marriage than anything else.

"I'll say it again. You can be very cruel when you want to be." Mac spoke from experience. In an act of desperation to get Pete to stay on the force after the death of his partner, Mac and Lt. Moore had handed him a brand new rookie on what was supposed to be Pete's last night. They knew that if Pete made a connection with the kid that he would feel too responsible for Reed's safety to quit. It had worked; he stayed, but they had paid a price for that move.

"Then be glad I don't get this way too often. Besides, this is fun and you know it." Pete took the bedrail in his right hand, using it to help him shift to a more comfortable position in the bed. He didn't move much, but what repositioning he managed hurt more than he expected it to.

"Don't do that." Mac had heard the short gasp of pain that Pete wasn't able to hold in. "I think we should call the nurse in." Pete took hold of the call button remote before Mac could reach it. He arched a brow when Pete pushed the button instead of hiding the control.

"What? I'm not allowed to ask for pain meds when they operated on my shoulder yesterday?" It was out of character but Pete was so tired of being in pain; weeks of it. Finally, he got to the point where he was able to tolerate it without medication, but now his shoulder felt like it was on fire.

"I'm not the one who kept refusing pain meds. I'm the one who has been ordering you to take them." Mac would never come out and ask Pete, but he had the feeling that Pete wanted an excuse to take the morphine; technically, he couldn't order Pete to do anything while he was on medical leave. Sometimes, that strong independent streak worked against his old friend.

"It's good to see you awake Officer Malloy. I'm assuming that you are ready for this?" Eileen, the young RN held up a syringe. She was also carrying an IV bottle.

"Please call me Pete. Yeah, I could use a little of that morphine.' Using his right hand, Pete pointed at the IV bottle and the extra label on its side. "What's that for?"

"I'll try Officer Malloy. That has your antibiotic in it." While she answered him, Eileen injected the morphine into his IV line. "There, you should feel better in a few minutes." She replaced the old IV bottle with the new one and left.

"Excuse me Sir." Both men looked towards the door. With the lights off in the room and the hall brightly lit, all they could see was the silhouette of a man wearing his cover. Mac took the lead, assuming that whoever it was wanted to speak to him.

"Come on in. What can I do for you Garrison?" The young officer hesitated to enter the room.

"Not you Sergeant. I meant….him…that is, I have something for you Sir." The young cop pointed to Pete. Officer Myles Garrison was twenty-three years old and definitely intimidated by the presence of two superior officers. He got only as far as he needed to in order to hand Pete an accordion shaped legal file with a large rubber band around it. "Greene sent me up here to give this to you Sir."

"Thank you Garrison. Is there anything else?" Pete set the folder between him and the bedrail.

"No Sir….goodbye Sir." Garrison lit out of there like a fox with a pack of hounds on his tail. Mac and Pete managed to not laugh until the young officer got out the door.

"You've finally gotten used to it." Mac chuckled.

"To what; scaring rookies?" Pete was wearing the widest grin. "I do that all the time. It's fun."

"No, being called _Sir_." Mac knew Pete long enough to understand a few things about his former partner: Pete hated being the center of attention, he often deflected praise with humor, isn't or wasn't comfortable with references to rank and he doesn't like being referred to as a hero.

"He's four months off his probation. What should he call me?" Pete understood that a rise in rank would require a distancing himself from the other officers on his shift and accepted it. However, he would strangle Walters, Woods, or any of his old friends if they called him sir.

"He needs to call you sir. What's in the folder? That's Val's handwriting on the outside." Mac had a feeling that it was the paperwork about Kasak's murder of a large, plate-glass window. Pete looked into the folder and sighed.

"Don't tell Jim that I have this stuff." The truth was, Pete had hoped the captain would leave him out of this mess.

O~O~O

He tried to stay awake; he really did, but by the time Jim and Sally returned, Pete was sound asleep. It is perfectly normal to feel some lingering effects of the anesthesia during the first twenty-four hours after surgery. Both Mac and Sally left early in the morning in order to go to work. Jim had the day off so he decided to stay and keep watch over his partner. Pete woke up when the nurse came in to check his blood pressure, pulse and temperature. She gave him another shot of morphine and left the two officers alone.

"Hey Partner." Pete yawned then shook his head in an attempt to clear away some of the fog he's been in since the surgery.

"Hey, yourself." Jim's tone of voice held a hint of annoyance to it. "Are you going to explain yourself?"

"Explain what? I was sleeping." Pete put on his best poker face.

"You know what you did." Pete bit the inside of his mouth in an attempt to keep from laughing. Sometimes teasing Jim was a lot of fun.

"Can you be more specific? I do a lot of things." Pete's right hand moved in a dismissive way.

"What you did right here yesterday morning." The tips of Jim's ears were getting red; a sure sign that Pete was pushing it.

"Hmm, yesterday? In the morning?" Pete turned his head so that he wasn't totally looking at Jim, moved his eyes towards the roof and arched both brows. He wasn't trying to remember what Jim is asking him about; he knew that. Pete was trying to figure out how long he could stall telling Jim about Sally and the engagement. Obviously Sally hadn't told Jim.

"Do you deny telling me yesterday that you and Sally were engaged?" Jim stepped closer to the bed, hanging like a vulture over his partner.

"Why would I deny it?" Pete used his right hand to shoo Jim away from his perch. "Will you give me some room and stop acting like Snoopy on his doghouse?"

"So you are engaged!" His face was a mixture of disbelief and anger; all he lacked was steam coming out of his ears.

"Didn't I just say that?" Pete couldn't continue without laughing.

"You rat! You deliberately tried to sneak that by me yesterday." He pointed a shaking index finger at Pete.

"I almost got away with it." He flashes his best grin at Jim. "After hounding me about marriage for years, you deserved it."

"…because you finally listened to me?" Jim still couldn't believe it. Pete was engaged?

"No, because your domestic bliss turned very good girlfriends into wannabe wives." Jim had to admit that Pete did look happy. "It wasn't you. I had a long talk with my Dad about it." Pete tried to shift into a more comfortable position. "He made me realize what I was doing."

"I can't believe it. You are finally engaged? No one is going to believe me, you know." Jim had the same look that Mac did; both wanting to spread the news.

"Jim…don't tell anyone, please. Sally and I don't want to make a big deal of this since we won't be getting married for a while."

"I've been waiting five years to be able to say that someone finally snagged you and now I can't say anything?" Jim threw his arms up in frustration. "Can I at least tell Jean?"

"No, it's a secret." Pete tried, but he couldn't keep a straight face. "You can tell Jean, but the last thing I need is Jimmy running around saying 'Uncle Pete is getting married'!"

"You want me to keep your Godson in the dark. You want me to lie to him?" Jim actually agreed with not telling Jimmy, but laying a little guilt on Pete was payback for teasing him. "You'll hurt his feelings."

"Jimmy won't know the difference." Pete did feel a tinge of guilt, even knowing that the boy wouldn't understand what a wedding actually means.

"He'll hear Jean and I talking about it, besides, don't you think he would notice if you and Sally started living together?" Pete got the idea that Jim was fishing for some information. Oh well, he probably deserved it.

"He hasn't notice so far and neither have you Partner." That had the desired effect; Jim was dumbfounded by that tidbit of information. Pete shook his head and laughed while Jim's face turned a nice shade of pink.

"You mean…." Jim paused, maybe he misunderstood. Pete could be talking about the nights they spent sleeping together in the hospital bed. "…before _this_ happened…you two were…roommates?"

"That's one way to put it." Pete was laughing so hard that he was afraid he was going to pop his stitches. "Don't look so surprised. It's been that way since the night of her niece's wedding."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you; Sally, marriage, all of it?" Some of the blush was fading from Jim's face.

"Yes, when I get out of here, Sally will give up her apartment and move in with me. Bouncing between two apartments doesn't make sense. Eventually, we'll get married, but we're not rushing it; not until I get better."

"Congratulations Pete. I'm happy for you." Jim stayed until Pete fell asleep. Then he rushed home to tell Jean.

O~O~O

Part of Pete was annoyed. He finally emptied the folder that Garrison had delivered and it was filled with all the reports about the incident with Kasak. He was reading the reports when the nurse came in to give him his next dose of morphine. There was some discussion about the shot, but Pete was able to convince the nurse to hold off on it. She wasn't happy, but she understood his need to keep a clear head. The fact that he was reading these reports meant that Captain Moore wanted his opinion. The report from investigation at the scene did show that the shot came closer to hitting Mr. May than Pete was led to believe, but then, he never really asked about that aspect of the shooting.

Captain Moore showed up around lunchtime with a homemade turkey sandwich, a cup of coffee and a piece of his wife's banana bread. He set the food on the bed tray.

"Is that a bribe or a peace offering?" Pete and Val Moore hadn't ridden together in years, but they still knew how to read the other one.

"Part peace offering and part Anne wanting to make sure you are eating right. Geesh, I can see your ribs." The last time Captain Moore had stopped to check on Pete was close to three weeks ago. After six weeks in the hospital, Pete was approximately twenty pounds underweight.

"Even Oliver Twist wouldn't eat the gruel they serve here, but you didn't come here to ask about the quality of my meals." Pete held up one of the many reports that sat on the tray next to another uneaten meal. "I've read them, now what?"

"Now, I want your opinion. You are his direct supervisor, aren't you?" Moore grabbed an empty chair, turned it backwards and sat down. Pete recognized the move; his old training officer was not about to let him slide on the issue.

"I'm on medical leave; doesn't that take me out of the loop?" Yes, he knew he was in an ornery mood, but he did hate being in the hospital.

"No officer Malloy, you are the beginning of the loop." Ouch, Moore calling him Officer Malloy was enough to tell Pete that Moore wasn't in the mood to play games either. "I want to know what you think. You know this rookie better than I do."

"Right", Pete took a bite of the sandwich, mostly to give him a minute to rethink his opinion one more time. "He's a good one Captain. I don't know any cop who didn't make a ton of mistakes in their rookie year."

"He carelessly discharged his weapon. I can't let that go."

"Yes, he did. So did Sanchez when he blew a hole in the floor of his unit with a shotgun." Pete chucked at the memory; he had been a witness when Sanchez barely missed shooting his own feet. "He's still around, unless you've fired him in the last few days."

"No, I haven't." Moore cut off his own laughter. "Captain Grant wanted to fire him. I had to call in favors to keep him on the job."

"You don't need me to tell you that Larry Kasak deserves the same consideration." While Pete wasn't hungry when Moore arrived, but now that he had a homemade sandwich, he was ravenous. He took another bite of the sandwich.

"That's true." By the way the Captain was looking at him, Pete got the feeling that he was being evaluated, not Larry Kasak. "So, I let him off with only a reprimand?"

"No. If it was up to me, I'd have him come in on his days off to work the front desk gratis." Moore didn't say anything which led Pete to believe that he needed to justify his recommendation. "He has the potential to be a good cop. What he needs is more training. Suspending him is counterproductive."

"Alright, that's what I'll do. Thanks Pete." Captain Moore stood and began to gather the reports together.

"Why?" Pete placed his good hand on top of the reports to keep Moore from taking them.

"Why what?" Moore's reply told Pete nothing.

"Why are you testing me?" He was sure that his old friend wasn't here to hear him give the same recommendation that Moore himself would have made.

"Curiosity." With that, Captain Val Moore, Pete's training officer and friend left him wondering what the man was curious about.


	19. Chapter 19

Larry Kasak pulled the hat on his head as low as he could when he entered the roll call room; maybe they wouldn't notice him. The five days between his appearances there did little to deter the snickers and the playful comments from his brother officers. In fact, the only two cops not enjoying the banter were Jim Reed, his training officer, and Sgt. MacDonald. Jim suspected that the only reason MacDonald didn't tease Kasak was because he was running the briefing; Mac too had joked privately about Kasak's dubious start as an officer. As soon as they were released, Larry dashed out the door and hurried to the front desk.

Captain Moore had taken the action Pete said he would most likely choose. Two days on the desk was actually a mild response to an officer shooting a hole in a store's plate glass front window. It wasn't uncommon for rookies to receive a break on their mistakes. You expect them from a probationer; the consequences for a veteran would have been much more severe.

"Thanks for coming in to work with me, Sir. I sure hope that your wife isn't mad about you working on your days off." Larry had never met Jean Reed, but he didn't want to get on her bad side, if she had one.

"It's Jim and actually, Jean thinks the whole thing is hysterical." Maybe he shouldn't have said that, but Jim felt that honesty was the foundation of a successful partnership. "Besides she knows how important it is for a probationer to work only with their training officer during the first two months. It's the best way to insure that your training is uniform."

"My brother laughed his head off as soon as he saw me." Larry, elbows firmly planted on the front desktop, held his head in his hands. "One of his friends found the story in the newspaper and showed it to him. Now he keeps calling me 'Deadeye'!"

"Be glad that guy didn't shoot back at you." During his early days on the force Pete had told Jim there was a lesson to be learned in most of their calls. Now it was Larry learning, but the lesson was the same. "Shooting the window was bad, but do you know what the bigger mistake you made was?"

"Bigger mistake? I thought what I did was bad enough." During the time Jim had known him, Larry spent most of the time looking like an eight year old that just lost his dog.

"More dangerous, at least..." Jim waited for the rookie to look him in the eye before continuing. "You took your eye off the suspect. That's a good way to get yourself or your partner killed. _Never_, _ever_, let your focus be on anything other than the guy pointing a gun at you." It was at this point when Jim realized that he had a developed a Training Officer voice.

"Yes Sir, I'm sorry Sir."

"Don't call me sir. It's Jim or Reed if you prefer."

"Um…okay. Sir, someone is coming in." The front door of the station lobby was pulled open with a strong jerk by a rather large and visibly angry man. Larry was grateful for the distraction until the man pointed a finger at him.

"You boy, I got a complaint." Kasak turned towards his training officer. So far, the day had been very quiet; the perfect chance to educate Larry about things he forgot to tell the younger man when they were in the "Ale and Wich" pub. That talk had been for reassuring the rookie of his future with the department.

Excuse me Mister…?" Jim was making an attempt to get the man's attention but before he could the man leaned over the counter and tried to grab Kasak's arm. The rookie jumped back as if Dracula, fangs exposed, suddenly lunged at him.

"Sir, I need your name." Jim would divert the man's attention to start, but would pass the man onto Larry. "What is the problem?"

"It's Weiss. Andy Walker." Mr. Weiss glanced towards Kasak and then focused on Jim. "Some putz stole my wheel."

"Okay, Officer Kasak will be glad to help you fill out the proper forms." Reed used his left hand to point to the rookie standing slightly back from the counter. Larry didn't look eager to deal with the man.

"A kid? He doesn't look old enough to know how to read, much less how to write." Jim had to admit to himself that the six foot four, two hundred pound man did dwarf his trainee. About the only officer in the division that was shorter than Larry was Ed Wells.

"I can assure you that Officer Kasak is capable of helping you with your theft." Unseen by Mr. Walker, Jim used his hand to encourage the rookie to close the distance between him and the counter.

"Yes…Mr. Walker. You said that someone stole your wheels?" Larry seemed hesitant to handle the man's complaint, but Jim had to give him credit for trying.

"No, I said they stole my wheel. Don't you speak English?" The man was aggressive, but not physically threatening, yet, so Jim did not step in.

"Okay. They didn't steal your car; just the wheel? Which wheel?" Jim was about to put a car theft report form on the counter, but put it back. He remembered the night he had to fill out three different reports before he got the right one to report the theft of a car door. Pete had teased him about that. This had to be theft because it didn't matter if the vehicle was locked or not.

"The front one. Can you believe it? I thought threading a lock through the back wheel and the chain would stop someone from stealing the bike, but they stole the front wheel anyway."

"What kind of bike and where was it parked?" Larry was using scratch paper to make notes so he missed the look of utter disbelief on Mr. Walker's face. He mouthed "_where was it parked_?" to Jim

"I chained the _bi-cyc_-_le_ to a telephone pole in front of the deli down the street." Jim turned so that Larry wouldn't see him laugh. He recognized that tone of voice; it was the one Pete used the first night they rode together when he said "_One… Adam-12…Roger_". That tone was usually accompanied by an expression that said, "Can you possibly be that stupid"?

"Oh, that kind of bike." For the second time that morning, Kasak's neck and cheeks were baby girl pink in color. Jim slid the proper form across the counter to Larry. "What brand of wheel and how much is it worth?"

Eventually, the report was finished and a much calmer Mr. Walker left. However, it left Larry with one question. "Why did he bother to report the stolen wheel? It didn't have a serial number. What good does the report do?"

"If he had insurance on the bike, he might have gotten the money to replace it, but without insurance he didn't need to report it. I think he knew that, but sometimes it helps calm the PR down. At least they did something about the theft."

Kasak nodded and put the report on top of the pile they would give to Mac later. The next three hours were too busy for Jim to continue with his questioning of the rookie. They took calls for officer responses, helped two fathers bail out their sons, called detectives to deal with a found child and fielded the odd complaints about parking tickets. They took seven in the breakroom. To Larry's relief, they were the only ones in the room. Those few officers who stopped in for coffee refrained from kidding the rookie; Jim's glare was warning enough.

O~O~O

Pete was sure he was starting to lose his mind; there was nothing to do. With its soap operas, fluff talk shows, cartoons and game shows, daytime television was geared towards women and children. He'd watched the morning news, but there weren't any more news broadcasts until the late afternoon and the radio reception in the hospital stunk. Reading was possible, but with his left arm still being kept immobile even that was frustrating. So he did the only thing he could think of; he got out of bed and walked to the window. He missed being out in the city surrounded by the sights and sounds that were a normal part of his life. While he was looking out the window, someone came into the room.

"Peter Joseph Malloy! Get back in bed right now!" There were exactly two people in the world that would dare yell at him like that and use his full name; his mother and Mrs. O'Brian. Since he spoke to his parents by phone that morning, he knew where his mother was.

"Mrs. O'Brian, it's nice to see you too." She smelled of rose water and cherry pie. He might have gone right back to bed for the piece of pie, but Pete was in an ornery mood. "I am allowed to get out of bed, so shush."

"Don't you dare shush me! Your mother left me in charge of you." She puffed up her chest, at least as much as she could manage to do and glared at him.

"No she didn't and you know that." Pete's mother didn't like Mrs. O'Brian from their first meeting and things rolled downhill from then. The two women behaved like two mother cats fighting to control the new kitten brought into the household and Pete was the kitten.

"Tosh, it wasn't like she had a lot of women to choose from. She had to trust someone to keep an eye on you." This was going to come down to who could out stubborn who.

"My mother doesn't like you and besides, Sally is around if I need anything." True, Sally was working almost every day to stock up on her days off for when Pete did finally get released, but Mrs. O'Brian didn't know that. "I don't need a baby-sitter."

"That's what you think. Look at you, all bandaged up like that." In addition to his shoulder Pete still had a strip of gauze running the length of the surgical scar on his stomach. He was sure that strip was there more to remind him to move slowly than to really protect the closed wound. Pete was eternally grateful that he was wearing pajama bottoms instead of a hospital gown. "You're too thin too. Someone has to protect you."

"Protect me?" One of Pete's eyebrows rose as he considered the absurdity of the old woman's assertion. He decided to be a bit snarky. "Where were you when I was getting shot? I could have used some protecting then." Pete couldn't help laughing; it was the first time he'd ever seen Mrs. O'Brian dumbfounded.

"Did you bring a fork with that pie…?" He was enjoying the conversation, but having skipped lunch, his stomach was growling. He walked past the still quiet Mrs. O'Brian on his way to sit down on the side of the bed. Pete wasn't willing to risk having her insist on helping him get into the bed. "Where's the coffee?"

O~O~O

Few foods were as greasy, messy and delicious as a Ranch Burger from Dukes; a quarter pound of beef, cheese, sautéed onions and mushrooms on a bun. Add fries, a side of chili, include a chocolate milkshake and Pete was in heaven. Nothing said "unauthorized food" like the aroma of that combination. It also told Pete that Jim Reed was seconds from entering his room; the quick rap of knuckles on the doorframe confirmed Pete's suspicions.

"What are you knocking for? Nobody bothers with privacy in a hospital room." Pete was back in bed after a session with Steve, his physical therapist.

"I was being considerate."

"Trying something new I see." Pete wasn't looking at Jim as much as he was looking at the food in his partner's hands. Reed had brought him ranch burgers during previous hospitalizations, but never the works. Pete was a skeptical person by nature so he had to wonder. "Not that I'm refusing dinner, but what are you up to? What do you want from me; in here?"

"Can't a friend bring you food without you being suspicious?" Jim was flashing that cheeky grin he that said, yes, he was up to something, but he was going to take his time with it.

"A burger, yes, but what you have in your hands is a feast."

"Geesh, try and be a nice guy."" Jim took a step back towards the door. "Maybe I'll take this home and eat it myself."

"Oh no, once you brought that in here, you lost ownership of it." Pete started to get out of bed; he wasn't going to let Jim even pretend to leave with that burger.

"Okay, okay." Jim was shaking his head and laughing as he brought the food over and put it on the tray. "Stay in bed. Mrs. O'Brian would have my butt if I let you fall over."

"Mrs. O'Brian? Since when do you answer to her?" Pete was not a happy man. The last thing he wanted was Mrs. O'Brian bothering his friends.

"Since she called the station today to tell me that you were way too thin and I needed to bring you food." The glare Pete cast at his partner had Jim laughing.

"Couldn't you have told her to mind her own business?" Right then and there Pete decided that he really needed to have a _chat_ with his landlady.

"In all the years I've known Mrs. O'Brian, you are the only one who can control her. She and Mac went at it heavy right after…Tony...shot you." Jim still couldn't say it without feeling a shiver run down his spine; he would never forget holding Pete and worrying that his friend would bleed out in the backyard. The image that came to Pete's mind was the terror he now remembered seeing in Jimmy's eyes.

"I heard about her hitting him with her knitting needles. She's really harmless." Pete didn't bother to mention that Mrs. O'Brian occasionally won one of their "discussions'. The time she insisted that he drive her to the station so she could demand action on her stolen purse came to mind. Pete still didn't know who was happier to see the old lady leave the station; Sanchez or Mac.

"Despite my landlady embarrassing me, that isn't enough to justify this." Already, part of the ranch burger was gone and the level of the shake was lower. "What's really on your mind?"


	20. Chapter 20

"You are a very suspicious person, do you know that?" Jim flashed Pete a cheeky grin.

"Name me a cop who isn't?" Pete paused long enough to take another bite out of the ranch burger Jim brought him; washing it down with his chocolate shake. "You still haven't answered my question. What's the real reason that you brought me all this food? And don't tell me there isn't one, besides Mrs. O'Brian's phone call." Pete did his best to cross his arms over his chest; giving Jim a look that said he would wait it out until Jim gave in.

"Larry and I…we…wanted to thank you for your help with his _little problem._"

"Huh?" Did Jim honestly think Pete had any influence in what happened to Kasak? He had already told Jim that he wouldn't interfere with the Captain's decision.

"I know that Captain Moore talked to you."

"How do you know that? Are you following him or spying on me?" Pete shook his head and chuckled; imaging Jim's network of spies.

"Wells saw him heading towards your room." Jim wisely kept to himself Wells' comment about Pete being the "Captain's Pet". He had no idea how many times Captain Moore visited his partner, but he did tell Wells' to knock it off. In addition, he reminded Wells, and anyone within earshot who might wonder about Ed's comment, that Moore had been Pete's training officer. Jim wasn't so much worried about the veterans but the younger guys wouldn't necessary know that fact. Everyone, however, knew that kind of a bond never truly goes away.

"Figures it would be him." Pete down the bowl of chili he was about to eating; he wanted Jim to understand. "The captain was here, but I didn't lobby on Kasak's behalf."

"You didn't talk about it at all?" Jim couldn't imagine that the Captain Moore wouldn't bring up the subject.

"He mentioned it, along with other things including the sergeant's exam." He dangled that bit about the exam in front of Jim; the mention of it tended to distract the younger officer. Pete really didn't want to get into the issue of Kasak's punishment.

"What did he say and what did you say?" Drat, Jim wasn't going for the bait.

"I didn't have a stenographer in the room. Geesh, Jim." Pete's attempt to glare his partner into dropping it failed. He hated to admit it, but Jim was now mostly immune to visual threats. Gone were the days when he could make Jim cower by even the hint of a glare.

"But he asked you about it, right? He did exactly what you said he would." Jim closed the distance between him and Pete. "Are you saying it's a coincidence?"

"Fine, he asked me what I thought the punishment should be and I told him. Are you happy Now?" Pete used his right hand to rub his forehead; Jim was giving him a headache. What had he told Moore that first night he rode with Jim? "_He talks too much when he shouldn't and not enough when he should_." Yeah, that was it; Jim hasn't changed much.

"Then why did you say you didn't intervene on Larry's behalf when you did?" Jim's voice was thick with annoyance.

"Look. He asked, I answered. Then I asked him why he was asking me what to do when it was the same thing he would do without my input." Pete let out a loud sigh and went back to the chili that was rapidly cooling down.

"What did he say?" Jim was sticking to the subject harder than the leeches Pete used to get on his legs while swimming in the river behind his grandparents' house. Pete took his time answering; suddenly the chili needed his full attention.

"Curiosity."

"Curiosity, what does that mean?" Jim sat down on the bottom part of the bed, causing Pete to shift a little to the left. Not that Pete minded; it was easier to talk to someone in front of him than constantly having to turn towards the right to see those that came to visit him.

"I don't know, but I could tell by the sound of his voice that Val Moore was not going to explain what he meant." Pete was forced to pull the few remaining fries he had closer to his side of the tray; Jim was trying to steal some. "Didn't you eat before you came here?"

"No, I promised Jean that I would come see you before I went home." Jim knew Pete well enough to see that he was trying to figure out why he promised Jean that, so he took advantage of that, leaned closer and managed to snag a few fries.

"Why did Jean send you here? And keep your hands off my fries." Pete moved them to the far corner of the tray. Then he finished off the chili before Jim tried to steal that too.

"She uh…well...it's kinda…sort of..." Jim wasn't quite sure how to approach the subject; a fact that was driving Pete nuts.

"Spit it out, will ya?" A few sips of the chocolate shake and Pete was done; passing the remaining fries to Jim.

"She wanted to know…if it's okay to come visit you." Per Jean's instructions, Jim paid close attention to Pete's facial expressions. She was worried that he would say it was okay to keep Jim happy, when he really didn't want to see her.

"Why wouldn't it be? Especially if she brings me some of that great carrot cake she makes." Pete's smile told Jim that he had forgiven Jean and would like her to visit; with or without the cake.

"Thanks Partner. I'll go home and tell her." Jim left, munching on the fries that had gone from hot and crispy to cold and soggy

O~O~O

Come morning, Jim and Larry were once again manning the front desk. It was a Tuesday morning, which tended to be a quiet day; today was no different. Jim had long since explained the procedures common to working the desk. They fielded calls; answering such difficult questions as "When is the next bike safety check" and "Is it legal for a high school band to march through a neighborhood practicing for an upcoming parade?" Kasak had trouble with the second question, but Jim bailed him out. Marching band practice laws are not stressed at the Academy. Most of the afternoon was spent staring at the clock.

"I can't believe we have to be back here at midnight." Larry was getting a rude reminder that his actions affected more than a window.

"Before midnight, don't forget roll call." As a consequence of working the Day Shift on their days off, Kasak and Reed missed the day between the rotations to another shift. Their normal watch was working the AM shift, which gave them the chance for five hours sleep before they reported for their next shift.

"Are the late night shifts quieter than the PM watch?" Larry suddenly seemed to be shy with a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders. "None of my friends from the Academy have worked the a.m. shift, yet."

"During the week they do tend to be quiet, but not until after the bars close and the drunks all get home; if they get home." Jim could barely remember a shift when they didn't have to deal with at least one drunk driver. "Sometimes we spot them and arrest them before they hurt themselves or someone else."

"And when you don't catch them before…they..." Larry left the question hover just out of reach. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. The one accident they had dealt with still left him queasy.

"Drunks usually end up in better shape then what they hit. They don't tense up before an accident like a sober person would." Jim was always sorry for the victims, but one remained stuck forever in his mind. A drunk crossed the yellow line and hit another car so hard that the man inside was thrown out onto the street. Near him were the Christmas presents the man was bringing home to his wife and kids.

"Jim? Are you okay? You look, I don't know, just not like you."

"I was remembering something that happened on a shift. It's not something I want to talk about." Jim slid off the stool and turned towards the door directly behind them. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Do you want some coffee?"

"Yes thanks, black, two sugars, please"

Jim nodded and left Larry behind. Instead of heading towards the breakroom, He leaned against the wall; eyes closed. When Pete, Mac and the Captain foisted Larry on him, Jim knew it would be hard; it was his job to teach Larry to survive, yet he never thought about the memories being a TO would invoke. He could remember the look in the wife's eyes when he and Pete told her that her husband was dead. The joy of the kids at seeing the presents in their hands; they were too young to understand that cops at the door unannounced was never good news. They had shattered that little family; nothing they said then or thought now could change that. Every Christmas Eve, Jim lit a candle for those kids and their mother.

O~O~O

"1 Adam-12, roger." A wave of excitement seemed to be running through Larry's whole being. Jim remembered that feeling; eagerness tempered by the fear that he would do something wrong, again. He had no clue as to how many dressing downs he was in for. "Was that okay, sir?"

"Perfect." He smiled at the rookie. "Relax, Tuesday nights are quiet." Jim pulled out the lot, making a left onto Benton Way. "It's been a few days since our last tour together; I'll spend some time showing you the hotspots in our reporting district."

Larry listened intently while Jim showed him the warehouses that line the district; pointing out the ones where drugs were stored. Jim pointed out the stores along the highway that were easy targets for a robbery and a quick getaway. He even pointed out Bernie's liquor store.

An hour into the shift the biggest call they got was a 459 that turned out to be a rather large cat eating out of the trash can. Ten minutes after they left the house, Jim stopped the car. It was time to refresh his memory. "Where are we?"

"Uh…." Larry barely started to turn his head to look when Jim jump in.

"No looking around. What street and what block are we on?" Jim had failed this test twice before he could tell Pete the correct answer. After 15 seconds of "ums" Reed went in for the kill, just the way Pete taught him.

"Too late…you're dead. Maybe I'm dead or both of us are. Perhaps a citizen _buys it_ because you don't know where to send help." Pete had chewed him out for it, but after the dressing down, he had patiently explained the best way to keep track of where they were. It had been a rare look into the nice guy hiding behind all the anger and frustration Pete was feeling.

"I'm sorry sir. I'll do better." Jim nodded, instead of coaching him right away Jim chose to see if Larry could figure it out by himself. He smiled when he heard Kasak whispering the street names as they went through the intersections.

The next two hours of their shift were one call after the other. As soon as they cleared themselves, the dispatcher sent them on another call. They handled a bar fight, found a six-year old hiding in a closet, took two burglary reports and Larry took the statement of a man who had his pocket picked.

When a blue Thunderbird made a rolling stop, Jim turned onto La Brea Terrace to follow it. He was going to warn the driver when they noticed the car weaving in and out of its lane.

"Run the plate while I stop her." Jim flipped the switch to put the reds on. Usually, a driver will pull over when they see the reds, even if they thought it was because the squad car needed to pass them. When the driver didn't stop, Jim gave the horn a few beeps. The T-bird showed no signs of stopping so Jim hit the siren. Finally the right blinker went on as the car slowly weaved itself to a stop at the curb. Both officers got out of the car, with Larry saying that the plate was clean.

"Stand by the right rear corner of the car and watch out for any funny moves by the driver."

As Jim approached the window, a bleached blonde stuck her head out to give him the once over. As it would happen, she took an instant liking to the tall, dark and handsome police officer.

"Hi cutie, did I do something wrong?" She had a southern drawl that flowed like butter on a hot griddle." With a wink and a smile, the woman began to open the door.

"Please stay in the car. May I see your driver's license, miss?" A gust of wind gave Jim more than a little whiff of bourbon.

"Sure doll face." The blonde took her driver's license out of her wallet, but didn't hand it to Jim. "If I stay in here, are you going to _join_ me?"

"No Miss…." Jim took the license; noting the name on the license before he gave it to Larry to run her for any warrants. "…Bailkowski, I'd like you to step out of the vehicle now."

"Sure hon, I'll do _anything_ you want me to." The woman opened the door, swung fishnet stocking covered legs out and stood up. "You can call me Suzanne, blue eyes."

"Up on the sidewalk please Miss. Bailkowski." Jim stepped back to allow her some room to walk alongside her car. Two steps and she staggered into him; smiling up while she braced herself with a hand on his chest. "I love a man in a uniform and a cop is tops." Miss Bailkowski brushed her hand over his badge. While Jim removed the woman from his chest, he was sure he heard Larry laughing. He held her upper arm and guided her to the sidewalk. Miss Bailkowski got a glance at Jim's left hand before he removed it from her arm.

"You weasel. Does your wife know that you flirt with the women you meet on the job?" While Jim had long since stopped wearing his wedding ring while working, he did put it on as soon as his shift was over. After six years of marriage, the finger held an impression of the missing ring.

"Miss, I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea, but I am doing my job, nothing more." Jim again heard laughter from his trainee; stopping it with the police officer glare that Larry had yet to learn; or to become immune to. "I'd like you to stand with your feet together, arms out, eyes closed."

"Whoops!" Miss Bailkowski couldn't put both arms out much less put her feet together. She leaned towards Larry. "Hey Short-stuff, can you help a lady out here?"

The blushing rookie rose to the occasion; catching the drunken woman in his arms before she hit the ground. He was about ask Jim, who was chuckling slightly, what to do now, when she spoke.

"I prefer men over six feet, but from this angle, you're kinda cute. How about we ditch this guy and go for a ride?" Larry didn't know what to say, instead looking to this TO for instructions. Jim came to his rescue and between the two of them, they managed to get her into the back seat of their unit.

With Jim driving, it was Larry who rode with the prisoner. Larry was told to take out the Miranda card and advise Miss. Bailkowski of her rights.

"I would Reed, but she's passed out and leaning on my arm."

The only response Larry got was laughter from the front seat and a muffled snore from the unconscious drunk.


	21. Chapter 21

I can't believe she blew a 28 on the Breathalyzer! No wonder she passed out on me. What do we do with her now? She's out cold on the bench in there." For what had to be the fifth time, Larry brushed his right shoulder with his hand.

"It's going to take more than that to get rid of the drool on your shoulder. Go change your shirt". Jim used his right fist the thumb sticking out to point over his shoulder towards the locker room.

"I'm trying to get the dandruff off. Do I really need to change my shirt for that?" The dandruff really stood out on the Larry's dark blue uniform, but the alcohol fumes were more pronounced.

"Yes, you need to change the shirt. It's not a good look or smell."

"It's not bad. Are you saying I have to waste a shirt for a little smell?" Larry was still trying to get the last flakes off his shirt.

"No. You are going to change your shirt because your training officer told you to." MacDonald seemed to appear out of nowhere; sergeants had an uncanny ability to show up when least expected. Mac waited until the rookie turned around before straightening to his full six feet to loom over Larry. "Don't make me say it twice." Mac's clipped delivery would brook no resistance.

As the probationer rushed down the hall, Mac invited Jim into the Watch Commander's office. Since Pete wasn't around to do it, Mac was watching the rookies and the brand new training officer. Jim took the seat indicated by MacDonald.

"What was that about out there?" MacDonald had taken a seat behind the desk. He was leaning across the table, bracing hid forearms on the surface.

"That drunken woman we brought in got dandruff and drool on Larry's shirt." MacDonald had to have heard the exchange if he stepped in, so Jim couldn't help but wonder why Mac asked.

"I could see and smell that." Mac paused, silently watching Reed until the new TO began to squirm. "That's not what I was asking about."

"What else is there? He's not the first guy who has had to change their uniform after a call." Jim was disturbed by MacDonald's demeanor; why did he suddenly feel like a rookie?

"No, he's not. A shirt reeking of bourbon isn't the issue." Again, the sergeant let the silence linger. It was an eerie reminder of the dressing downs Pete had given Jim during their partnership.

"Then what is Mac?" Jim fought the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on the pants of his uniform. Clearly he had done something wrong, but he had no idea why MacDonald was jumping on him.

"You are being too easy with him. That rookie should have said 'Yes Sir' and high-tailed it to the locker room without question." Mac stood up; staying behind the desk. He was shorter than Jim, but he loomed over the seated officer. "Answer me this; would Pete have let you question him, especially on your first week in the job? Would you have even considered arguing with him?"

"No…but Pete was angry and short tempered because of Baker's death." Sitting there, under MacDonald's silent, stern stance, Jim thought back over those early days. Had Pete been as brusque as he was solely because he was hurting over losing Andy?

"Do you really believe that was why Pete was so stern with you? Why he pushed you so hard?" MacDonald crossed his arms; waiting for Jim to answer. While Mac's style of dressing down was different from Pete's it was still very effective.

"Looking back, no." Jim hadn't responded immediately; he took the time to remember those first few stressful weeks. Pete had verbally rebuked him, but never without cause.

"Then why do you think he was so hard on you?"

As the weeks went by the dressing downs came further apart; Jim knew he was learning the ropes faster than some of his friends at the Academy. Five or six of them would get together to compare notes. Every one of them offered to trade with Jim.

"He wanted me to be the best; to keep me alive."

"Don't you think that rookie of yours deserves the same dedication that Pete showed you?" Mac hitched his left hip on the front of the desk; his voice taking on a different tone. "You can't be his friend and his teacher; not at the beginning of his training. Instilling fear is part of getting the job done."

"Pete said that I need to use my 'officer presence' to get Larry to listen to me." This was the part of being a training officer that gave Jim pause; he wasn't sure that he could be a hard-ass TO. Jim leaned back; throwing up his arms "I'm not Pete. I can't do what he does...Pete gets guys to surrender when he knows his gun is empty." Jim sighed, he missed wearing his wedding ring; he had nothing in his hands to fiddle with.

"Yeah, he does." Mac had to laugh; he rode with Malloy long enough to watch him make hardened criminals cower. "I'm not asking you to be a carbon copy of Pete, but you have something that no other TO here has; you were taught by the best. Draw on the example he set and make part of it yours."

"But…."

"No buts. That rookie's life depends on you channeling your inner strength. If we thought that you couldn't do the job, you wouldn't be sitting here now." Mac slid off the corner of the desk; gesturing with his hand for Jim to stand too. "You'd yell at your son to keep him safe. Consider Larry to be a toddler, because in many ways, he is."

O~O~O

Jim's mind raced as he made his way down to the locker room. Mac was right; he needed to put aside the budding friendship if he was to keep Larry from getting himself killed. Jim couldn't begin to count the number of times that Pete pulled his bacon out of the fire; putting himself between Jim and danger. The older man always brushed off the "thank you" with a joke or said something along the lines of "All part of the service".

"I'm almost ready Jim." Larry was putting on his tie when Jim got into the locker room. The rookie finished up and slammed his locker closed a little harder than it needed to be.

"Sit down. I need to get a few things straight with you." Jim Reed knew what he had to do. He cycled through the advice from Mac, plus all the dressing downs he had gotten from Pete and at the Academy. He realized that he did owe Larry that much. Jim put his right foot on the bench near the rookie; resting his arm on his leg.

"You questioned my authority back there in the hallway. Don't do that again." Each word of that last sentence was emphasized both by his tone of voice and a fist, with its index finger out, being repeatedly pointed at the shocked rookie. "You do what I tell you as soon as I get done telling you. Do you understand?"

"Ah, yes Ji…Sir", Jim decided right then that he was doing a good job, because Kasak looked as shaky as an addict suffering from the DTs.

"I won't have you dying on me because you think that you have the right to question my orders." Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the echo of Malloy telling him that more than once. At the time, he thought Pete said that because he did have a partner die on him, but that's not why. Jim finally, completely, understood the urgency in Pete's lectures.

"I understand Sir." Maybe he did, and Jim would settle for that, for now.

"Good, let's see if we can take seven in the break room before we get back on patrol." Jim started towards the door, assuming that Larry would follow. "Don't call me sir, the name is Reed."

O~O~O

The two shared a quiet "seven" in the break room. Both thought about the conversation in the locker room. If they had any intention of speaking about it, the arrival of several other officers put an end to that. Instead they discussed boxing with the other men. The next few hours were relatively quiet, but then, it was a Tuesday night. It wasn't until 6 a.m. when things changed...

"1 Adam-12, a 211 in progress, 11970 Ventura Boulevard, 1 Adam-12 handle, code 3."

Jim made a U-turn while Kasak acknowledged the call. Adam-16, with Wells and Brinkman, radioed in as back-up. Jim turned off the reds and siren three blocks from the address. When they pulled into the parking lot, a woman in a McDonald's managers uniform was waving both hands in the air. A quick look into the restaurant seemed to indicate that the dining area was empty. When Adam-16 arrived, Jim waved them to the back of the store, he and Larry got out of the car to speak to the woman...

"Keep an eye out for someone. I don't see a robbery in progress." Jim kept Larry close, but directed him to watch the front doors. The babbling woman ran over to the two officers.

"Help me, please. There's a guy in there with a gun. He was going to rob me." She spoke so quickly that they had to ask her to repeat herself.

"I don't see anyone. Are you sure he's still in the building?" Sixteen had indicated that there was no activity coming from the back of the restaurant. With the front and most of the sides made of glass, it was easy to see inside.

"Yes, yes! He's still in there." She continued to point to the building; there were potential places to hide, such as behind the counter. "We've been watching the doors."

"Okay Ma'am. We'll check it out. Is the door open and where did you see him last?" The two other doors visible were rigged to sound a fire alarm if opened without the key.

"He's in the walk-in refrigerator. You can't miss him." A million questions came to Jim's mind. If he had a gun and tried to rob her, how did she get away and why was he hiding in a refrigerator. Shouldn't he have run away to rob someone else?

Larry followed Jim into the store. They carefully checked the lobby and moved behind the counter. There wasn't a soul in sight. The door to the refrigerator faced the back of the store. Jim went to the left and he sent Larry around the right side. They met on the far side. Guns drawn, Jim motioned for Larry to open the door. Jim stood, aiming at whatever was inside the refrigerator. At first glance, it was a tall man in a trench coat, a very large fedora and a shotgun under his arm, but he didn't move. On second glance, Jim burst out laughing. He waved for Larry to come see the "robber". Under the trench coat and hat was a seven foot tall statue of Ronald McDonald.

They called sixteen to come and see the "suspect". After a good laugh, Jim and Larry went out to talk to the manager.

"Did you get him? I hope so because I'm afraid to go back in. I called the head manager and the owner to come down." This woman definitely thought someone was going to rob her. When another unit pulled into the lot Jim held up four fingers; the driver nodded and left.

"Ma'am? I don't know how to tell you this but it wasn't a robber. Did you take a good look at him? May I have your name please?" Ed Wells walked over to them, he really wasn't making the same attempt to keep a straight face that Jim was; Reed didn't want to laugh at the woman.

"Betty Higgens. Tell me what Officer?" Mrs. Higgens was twisting her hands in a nervous gesture. Her eyes kept darting around the lot.

"That wasn't a man. It's a big statue of Ronald McDonald in a trench coat and hat." Okay, Jim couldn't help but snicker a little.

"I'm going to kill her!" Mrs. Higgens went from scared to angry so fast she could have broken something. "She's gone too far now!"

A car with a man and a woman pulled into the lot. They got out, walking over to Mrs. Higgens.

"Kill who?" The man asked .

'Mary Ann, that's who, this is all her fault!" She spoke around Jim to answer the semi-bald, middle aged man. "She caused the robbery, Bob. That's why I called the cops."

"Wait." Jim had to take control of the questioning. "Who is Mary Ann and what does she have to do with you thinking a statue of Ronald McDonald was a real person trying to rob you?" Mrs. Higgens should have known better than to call the police.

The gentleman pushed Mrs. Higgens to the side.

"I'm Bob Shanahan, the owner of the restaurant. Mary Ann Lautenschlager is the night manager. She and her crew like to play jokes on the morning crew."

The look he gave Mrs. Higgens warned of dire consequences for this escapade.

"Usually the other morning managers know to expect them; especially with the statue. The last time he disappeared we found him standing in the men's room with a sign on his back saying to leave him alone because he was busy." Jim grinned, but he could hear Wells, Brinkman and Kasak laughing behind him.

Clarissa Moore, the woman who arrived with Mr. Shanahan told Jim that it was all in fun.

"Mary Ann wouldn't have done this if she thought anyone would be stupid enough to mistake Ronald for a real person." She shook her head and continued.

"Betty also flipped out when he crew used a place mat and tea leaves to make fake joint. They stuck it in Ronald's mouth and hung a sign on him saying that the place had more than one kind of roach in it, but they are harmless jokes."

Jim, who was busy getting the information for his report, scowled when Wells asked Mrs. Moore about any other pranks the night crew pulled. She continued, seeming to enjoy them as much as Wells.

"They stuck a Ronald doll halfway into the toaster. That sign said 'Help! They are burning my buns.' They put Ronald in a pair of jockey shorts and taped a knife to his raised hand; putting ketchup on the blade and the floor. We didn't notice until lunchtime when a regular asked when Ronald became a mass murderer."

Even Jim laughed at the last one. He handed the form to Mrs. Higgens to sign.

"Okay, thank you Mrs. Higgens. We have to get back to work now." Jim shooed the other three officers towards their cars. As they drove away, they could still hear Mr. Shanahan yelling at Betty.

With Wells and Brinkman as back-up, there was no way that this story wouldn't spread through the station like a brush fire. There was a silver lining to the call; this time the others would be laughing with Larry and not at him.

O~O~O

Pete couldn't sleep. Actually he rarely slept in a hospital unless he was sedated and that couldn't really be called sleep. It frustrated him that he was still in the hospital; he would have been released by now if they hadn't needed to operate on his shoulder again. He stood by the window watching the sunrise. To the casual observer, he seemed relaxed; those who knew him better would notice that he kept banging a fist against the wall.

"Hey there, Houdini." Pete chuckled, but he didn't turn around, even for her voice.

"So, you heard? Word gets around here fast." He shook his head, still staring out at the city's skyline. "It wasn't that big a caper. I took a walk."

"Uh…huh." Sally crossed the room; taking hold of Pete's arm to stop him from banging it on the cement blocks of the wall. "You snuck out of the hospital and were gone for an hour, at least. They even called me at home to see if I picked you up."

"I stayed on the hospital grounds...mostly." Pete pulled his wrist free of Sally's grasp; giving her a lopsided grin.

"Mostly, are you telling me that you walked around the neighborhood? At 4 a.m. and no one said anything?" Somehow, Sally wasn't surprised. If anyone could get away with walking the darkened streets wearing a robe, the bottoms to a pair of pajamas and slippers it would be Pete.

"There were a few people who looked at me funny, but I managed to avoid questions." His grin widened; making Sally wonder how he managed to stop anyone from questioning him or reporting an escapee to the hospital.

"In other words you glared them into minding their own business." Pete didn't try to deny it; he learned early that a stern countenance would earn you some distance. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"Pete, what am I going to do with you?"

"Take me home. That way they won't have to send out a search party for me." Ever since Dr. Franks told him that he should take a walk twice a day, Pete had been following the orders. It wasn't his fault that the doctor forget to specify that he had to stay on this floor.

"Not until you get discharged. You do realize that they have an orderly guarding your door, don't you?" Pete took as a challenge.

"Come on. Let's take a walk." Pete took Sally's hand in his, leading her towards the door. "I promise, we'll stay on this floor." Once they got pass the guard and into the hallway, Pete put his arm around Sally's waist.

"What did Dr. Franks say when they brought you back?" She was trying to sound serious, but Pete heard the chuckle in her voice.

"He said that if I felt good enough to escape this place, then it's time I left. This afternoon he's meeting with Dr. Torrens about discharging me once I finish the IV antibiotics." After operating on Pete's shoulder, Dr. Torrens had ordered a week of IV antibiotics as a precaution.

"That's in two days, right?" The anticipation was tinged with a twinge of worry. Pete was awfully thin.

"What's wrong? I thought you were looking forward to this day as much as I was." Pete stopped walking; turning to see her whole face.

"I am. It's just that…."

"That what?"

"You've lost so much weight. It worries me some." She reached up to brush back that strand of hair that keeps falling down on his forehead.

"I'll gain weight easily enough with you, Mrs. O'Brian and Jean feeding me." It was nice, knowing that he would soon be going home with Sally. Before Tony Johnson appeared, they'd quickly settled into a routine of staying at his place most nights.

"You really are too thin. I can feel every rib. If your mother sees you like this she's going to try to take you back to Seattle." Pete and Sally kept walking arm in arm through the halls of the hospital.

"Don't worry, Pop promised to keep her far away from us. Besides she's too worried that I'm going to be living in sin to come down and witness it." Pete pulled her closer as she rested her head on his right shoulder.

"Living in sin? Us?" He felt her chuckle ripple through his arm as much as heard it.

"What can I tell you? She's a strict Catholic." While Pete had grown up attending an Irish Catholic church, he had strayed from the path. Maybe it was the job; too many questions and too few answers.

"Your mother thinks that I'm going to _corrupt_ her little boy?" She smiled up at him, pale blue eyes sparkling with mischief; she couldn't slip that double entendre past him.

"That ship sailed a _long_ time ago." Pete was laughing, but there was the tiniest bit of pink in his cheeks. After all, they were walking past people.

"How long ago?" Sally wasn't letting him off the hook; a thing his father had warned him about with her. "I need details. We're engaged and you won't tell me? Come on Pete, tell me".

"No, there are people listening."

"Please…" It was one of those long, whiny pleases.

Pete pulled her off to a secluded corner; away from prying ears. "No details. Let's just say that I was corrupted before I left home and leave it at that." Sally was the only person in the world who could make him blush. So, it was time to turn the table on her.

"Now you tell me."

Sally leaned against his chest as her fingers brushed the stubble on his chin. "A woman never answers that question."

She turned, leading the way back towards his room with Pete hurrying after her.

"Oh no, I'm not letting you off that easily."

.


	22. Chapter 22

Pete was planning. To the casual visitor or staff, he seemed to be spending a quiet day reading or doing crossword puzzles. There were no protests about taking his pain medication and not once did he call his physical therapist a sadist. He was the perfect patient, which should have tipped them off.

Sally, who never answered Pete's question, had stayed with him while he ate breakfast. After so many weeks in the hospital Pete had figured out the trick to getting a halfway decent breakfast; hard boiled eggs, bacon, cold cereal with milk, coffee and toast or a muffin. He steadfastly refused to order the oatmeal or any other "hot" cereal on the menu. At 8 a.m. Sally left to work a shift in the Emergency room. Pete wouldn't see her after work because she was going to her mother's house for the old woman's birthday. Sally stopped at the door; turning to admonish him.

"Behave yourself, please."

"I promise to be a good boy." That was an appropriate answer, but Sally had her doubts. Both his smile and the spark she saw in his eyes hinted at trouble.

O~O~O

Jean paid a surprise visit right after Pete rejected the lunch that had been sent up by the dining service. She came equipped with a Tupperware container of homemade chicken soup, a roast beef sandwich and a piece of carrot cake. While he appreciated the food, he was more grateful for Jean's presence.

"Hi Jean, it's good to see you." He chuckled at her offerings. "I was kidding about the carrot cake."

"Jim insisted." Her smile said otherwise.

"I'm sure he did. Sometimes your husband can be a little gullible." Pete nodded towards the door. "Is he here or did you leave him home?

"He's home, taking a nap, along with Jimmy."

A change came over Jean as she set the food on the tray; pushing it over the bed. For whatever reason, she felt like she had to say it again.

"Pete…I'm so sor…"

"Don't." Pete reached out and took Jean by the hand. "It's forgotten. I'm just glad to see you."

Pete's kindness had an unexpected and undesired effect; Jean started to cry. It was the one thing that Pete had never quite learned to deal with. He could handle a crying woman when he thought they were using fake tears to try and manipulate him, but Jean wasn't dong that. With a sigh, he gave in; pulling her into a hug. After a few minutes, Pete decided that it was time to stop with the mushy stuff.

"You're getting my robe wet." He smiled at Jean as she stood up, grabbing a tissue from the box on his nightstand. "First it was my bandages you got wet, now this. What do you have against dry things?"

"Sorry." Jean began to unpacked Pete's lunch, which also included a can of coke.

"It'll dry. Besides, a wet robe is worth it for this lunch. That stuff over there you can take home to the dog." Pete pointed to his discarded lunch.

"Thanks. But the dog has been throwing up cauliflower and Lima beans. If I ever find out which of his friends taught Jimmy to sneak his veggies to the dog, I will make sure that their mother gives them a few swats on the behind."

"_Too late"_ Pete kept that thought to himself. Now he had one more reason to be glad that his mother was up north, back home in Washington. She wouldn't dare try to spank him, but he was sure it was better to not test that theory.

He started on the soup while Jean took the foil off of the sandwich. Pete used his spoon to point at the bottom end of the bed. "Have a seat."

"Thanks. You seem to be feeling better. Did the doctors say when they will let you go home? Jimmy is anxious to see you."

"Yeah..." Pete got a faraway look in his eyes. Being able to speak to Jimmy on the phone helped, but he needed to spend time with his Godson. "Doctor Franks was by earlier. Unless I suddenly get worse, I'll be discharged the day after tomorrow."

'That only leaves you two nights to sneak out of your room again." Jean shook her head, laughing. "Don't give me that innocent look. It might work on Jim, but I'm not buying it, I'm a mother."

"_I'm offended_." Pete spoke with a mocked sincerity as he raised his right hand in the vicinity of his heart.

"Is it my fault that I hate being confined? I was born to be free."

"It's a good thing there aren't any tall Maple trees outside that can reach the window." In that instant, Pete decided he had told Jim entirely too much about his boyhood adventures, despite the fact that Jim knew practically nothing about Pete's teen years. One of the things he did know was that Pete used to climb out his bedroom window and down a tree once his parents were asleep.

"I don't need a tree."

"No, you certainly don't." Jean paused to pull a rolled up piece of paper from the bag she brought the lunch in. "Your Godson sent you this."

Pete reached out to take the scroll-like paper, slowly removing the rubber band keeping it from unrolling. It was a childish drawing of a red haired man tossing a ball to a tow-haired boy; stick figures playing catch in the park. In the bottom right corner was a cherry red heart and the name Jimmy written in crayon.

"The kid's quite an artist." Jean was staring off towards the door; giving Pete some privacy, but she heard the slight crack in his voice. He didn't need to say the obvious, so he merely said "Tell him we'll go to the park soon."

Before she left, Jean took the opportunity to lighten the mood with the details of Jim's 211 at McDonalds.

O~O~O

At four o'clock Pete had another visitor; Father Joe from St. John's. The church was on Pete's beat and the unlikely pair had become friends. They had a tacit understanding that religion, and Pete's status as a lapsed Catholic, was not a topic of discussion. At Malloy's mother's request, the priest stopped by to bless Pete every couple of days. He tolerated it because he had promised his mother that he would allow them, but only until he was released.

Today the lanky priest arrived with more than holy water; under his arm was the well-worn chess set the two of them usually played on. They passed two hours playing and sharing what little news of the neighborhood there was. Then the priest joined Pete on a few laps around the ward. All the while they played chess and walked, Pete was watching and listening. While the floor was busy, no one was really keeping an eye on Pete; they knew where he was.

O~O~O

At nine-thirty, Marsha, his nurse for the evening, came to give Pete the sleeping pill he had agreed to take. He stalled her by asking her to wait until the movie he was watching was over. Marsha watched him with a skeptical eye, trying to decide if he was up to something. Pete employed some of that Irish charm he was known for and the nurse left, promising to be back at 11. Now that visiting hours were over a security guard had taken up residence on a chair outside his door.

"Eleven o'clock? You promised me that sleeping pill would have him out by ten. You expect me to wait here until after eleven?" Pete heard the chair by his door creak when the guard stood up to argue with the nurse and he smiled.

At eleven p.m. on the dot, Marsha returned with his nighttime sleeping pill and an injection of Morphine; Pete was ready. He had no problem taking the shot; he could move better if he wasn't in pain. As the nurse put the sleeping pill into his palm, he shifted it into his left hand; reaching with his right hand for the cup of water she held. Marsha watched him pop the pill into his mouth just before he spilled some of the water she had given him. While she grabbed some tissues and began to wipe up the water, Pete smiled, thinking of Sergeant Tim Marks. Malloy had protested when he was loaned to bunco for three months, but right now, he could kiss ole Tim for the sleight of hand lessons he made Pete sit through. The gruff older sergeant explained that it was almost impossible to spot a switch if you couldn't do one yourself.

After Marsha left, Pete removed the pill from his sling and proceeded to flush it down the toilet. Then, he waited.

O~O~O

Reed and Kasak had a slow beginning to their midnight to eight a.m. shift. It wasn't until after one that they stopped a car with its rear bumper hanging on by duct tape; at least the left side was held in place. The right side was dragging along the pavement and sending up sparks that were both easily visible and dangerous. Initially, Jim had intended to have the man pull into the next service station and have the bumper taken care of; three hundred thirty two dollars in traffic warrants changed his mind.

Reed was leading Kasak through the booking process when Brady told him that MacDonald was looking for him. Wells, who was riding with Brady that shift, added that the sergeant was in a "bad" mood.

"I don't know what you did Reed, but I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now." Typically, Wells found the whole situation funny.

Jim took over booking the suspect in order to get it done faster. Whatever Mac wanted him for, Reed was sure that delaying the meeting wouldn't have a positive effect on the sergeant.

Jim rushed down to the Watch Commander's office. Reed didn't think he'd done anything wrong, but the glimpse he got of the man in the watch commander's office wasn't encouraging. MacDonald slammed down the phone when Jim knocked on the door. Mac responded to the knock with a brusque "invitation" for Jim to enter. Jim consigned his soul to God and went into the office.

MacDonald, who reminded Jim of an angry grizzly bear, turned on him.

"Where is he?" Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw the other officers in the hallway quickly disappearing; an act of self-preservation, no one wants to be around a yelling sergeant.

Jim blinked, taking a step backwards.

"Where is who?"

"Did you help him?" MacDonald's actually growled as he demanded an answer.

"Help who?"

"You know who, now where is he?"

Jim bit back the impulse to say "Who's on first base."

"Where is your partner?" MacDonald crossed his arms and glared at Reed. Jim was taller, but Mac had perfected the sergeant stare.

"Larry is in the…" MacDonald cut Jim off mid-answer.

"I'm NOT talking about your rookie! Where is your partner?"

"_Pete_?" Jim tilted his head slightly, giving Mac a more than confused look. "He's in the hospital, you know that Mac."

"_He was_. He isn't anymore!" Mac took two steps closer to Reed. "Did you help him get past the security guard?"

"Pete's gone…_again_?" Jim flopped down a chair by the door, leaning back against the wall.

"I haven't seen him all day." Reed sighed loudly.

"How did they lose him this time?"


	23. Chapter 23

"How did they lose him this time?" Jim shook his head; he knew Pete was too stubborn to ignore the challenge that a guard outside his door represented.

"They don't know. After the nurse checked to make sure that the sleeping pill she gave him worked, the guard left." MacDonald picked up the phone receiver and put it back down. He did not want to have to call Captain Moore to tell him that Pete had escaped again. Not that it would really be news to the captain, Pete had never been one to stay in a hospital longer than he thought was necessary. The problem had always been that his doctors tended to disagree with him on that point. "I guess we should be happy that he isn't going home when he wanders."

"There's that. Wait, Pete doesn't take sleeping pills." Jim couldn't help laughing, even though he knew that the sergeant wouldn't find it funny. "He says they give him a hangover worse than he ever got from drinking."

"No. The nurse watched him take the pill. He was asleep." MacDonald used his right hand to rub the back of his neck; he would definitely be waking up his wife Mary to rub his shoulders when he got home.

"Mac, how long have you known Pete?" Jim spread his arms, raising the right one slightly higher than the left.

"Twelve years or so, what does that matter?" Deep down, Mac knew that Pete, wherever he was, was safe. Still, his habit of walking out of hospital rooms wasn't in accordance with department policy.

"In all that time, you never saw him pull a quarter out of a kid's ear to calm them down? Never saw him juggle coffee mugs or deal Three Card Monty?" Surely Mac had seen Pete do some of that, but it had been a long time since he rode with Malloy. Once or twice, after losing coin toss after coin toss to determine who paid for the coffee, Jim actually wondered if Pete could fix the toss. "Trust me, that pill never found its way into Pete's mouth."

O~O~O

"I heard some guys in the locker room talking. They were saying something about Malloy getting out of the hospital?" It was more a question than a statement because Larry Kasak knew that Pete wasn't due to be released for a few days, at least.

"Clear us." Pete's personality quirks were not something that Jim was willing to discuss with Larry. It had only taken Reed a month or so to learn that his training officer had a stubborn, independent streak. Malloy, an only child, treasured his privacy and rarely asked anyone for help. Being stuck in a hospital with people hovering over him drove Pete to skip out of his room when the lack of privacy reached its boiling point. While Jim had never had an extended hospital stay like the ones Pete has had to endure over the years, he did understand how his partner felt.

Jim liked working the Monday a.m. shift. While early Sunday evenings, especially in the warmer months, were hotbeds for drunken driving arrests, few people stayed until the bars closed when they had to work in the morning. Still, there are always a few people who do not know when to stop.

"Run the plate on that green Plymouth in front of us." Larry did as instructed, but he wasn't sure why Jim had him check the license.

"What's the matter? I don't see anything wrong."

"Take a look at the driver." Jim pressed harder on the gas pedal; putting the unit close to the other car.

"I can't see the driver." Larry leaned forward, straining his neck in an attempt to see what Jim saw. He did, however, finally notice that the car had begun swerving. Jim turned on the reds and the Plymouth took off.

"Roll up your window and put us in pursuit."

"1 Adam-12. We are in pursuit of a green Plymouth Wagon, license Ida Robert Allen three one five."

"All units, 1 Adam-12 is in pursuit. 1 Adam-12, your location please."

"This is 1 Adam-12, we are…"

"Northbound"

"…we are northbound on Manning, nearing Pico." The rookie's voice was wavering, but then, he hadn't been in too many pursuits and being calm in one takes experience.

"All units, Adam-12 is in pursuit northbound, nearing Pico." In contrast, the dispatcher's voice was calm and professional. Both officers found that reassuring.

"1 Adam-12, we are now westbound on Pico..."

"Tell her how fast we are going." Jim was too busy trying to both keep control of the car and catch up to the speeding Plymouth to check the speed himself.

"…speed in excess of…ah...seventy, nearing Westwood Blvd."

"1 Adam-12, 1 Adam-16 is code 100 at Westwood and Pico."

When the driver of the Plymouth saw Adam-16 parked at the corner of Westwood and Pico the car swerved, sideswiping a parked car before hitting a mailbox. It spun around coming to a stop just short of a storefront. Jim slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to the curb behind the Plymouth. As Larry reported the TA, Jim ran after the driver, who was attempting to flee. Kasak dropped the mic and ran after one of the passengers.

The three occupants are the speeding car were easily captured: Larry got the front seat passenger, Adam-16 got the backseat rider and Jim nabbed the driver.

"How old are you?" Jim was leading the driver, who clearly wasn't old enough to shave yet, back to the unit. "…and what is your name?"

"Mark. I'm seventeen." The shakiness in the boy's voice was enough to convince Jim that Mark was lying about his age.

"Do you wanna try answering that again, Mark?"

"Don't tell him anything Marky boy. You got rights even if you ain't eighteen yet." Larry's prisoner, who bore a strong resemblance to Mark, was having trouble standing up straight and was slurring his words.

"You do have the right to remain silent, but we'll find out your name eventually, so make it easy on yourself kid." Wells and Woods were once again serving as back-up to Adam-12, which gave Wells the "right" to intervene in Jim's questioning of the boy.

"I'm telling him anything he wants to know. You aren't in trouble; I'm the one that was driving." Mark turned back towards Reed. "I'm fourteen. That's my older brother Carl."

"Hold up. Larry, give the boys their rights." Jim could see Woods standing by Adam-16 and reading the second passenger his rights. After Larry finished, Jim began to question Myles again.

"What is your last name and why were you driving? I know that you don't have a license."

"He ain't got a license, but he's not drunk, so we told him to bring us home." Carl seemed to think that having his younger brother drive them home was a bright idea. "Our last name is Wilson."

"Well, all three of you are going to jail. Next time, call a cab."

Two hours later, Mark was referred to Juvenile officers and sent home with his parents. His brother and the other passenger, both nineteen years old, were booked for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.

Larry and Jim had one thing, above all else in common; both were always hungry and never seemed to gain weight. Pete often teased his younger partner, telling him that all that eating would catch up to Reed someday; he was still waiting for it to happen. As soon as they could, the two officers put in for a dinner break. During the allotted forty-five minutes, Kasak tried several times to steer the conversation towards the rumors about Pete. He didn't get very far.

The sunrise was starting when Adam-12 received a Code 30, silent alarm call to a local drugstore. With no back-up available, Jim and Larry approached the building with extreme caution. The layout was simple, with a large storeroom in the basement and a loading door in the alley behind it. Jim turned off the headlights, slowly pulling up to the door that was slightly ajar.

"1 Adam-12, reporting a 459 in progress at 12384 Lankershim Blvd. Advise any responding officers to approach from the alley." Jim stifled a smile; Larry's radio procedure was improving.

"Come on. Don't close the doors all the way. Keep your flashlight turned off until we get inside." Reed exited the unit, pushed the door closed enough for the dome light to go off and carefully made his way to the door.

"Do exactly what I tell you and nothing else." The hairs on the back of Jim's neck were standing on edge; that usually meant that he or Pete were in danger. Did that sixth sense apply to Larry too?

"Stay behind me and go slow." Jim took great care to silence his footsteps. If there was anyone still in here, Reed wanted to hear him before seeing him. "Don't talk."

Jim muttered something under his breath; the layout had changed slightly, with rows of solid shelves instead of the metal grid ones that used to be there. After peering down the first aisle, Jim moved across it to the next aisle and the next; trusting that Larry was following him. He was about to move to the fourth aisle when a voice in his head, Pete's voice, said: "Always keep track of him because that rookie will walk off on his own."

Jim looked back. Larry was nowhere in sight.

Reed stood frozen; his back to the end of one of the rows of shelves. His rookie, the one he was responsible for, was God knows where, in the dark and Jim didn't know what to do.

"Hold it right there." Larry's voice was barely loud enough, but Jim heard him. The rookie and whoever he found were along the back wall and off to the right. Reed fought back the urge to run towards Larry, just in case whoever he ordered to stay still didn't.

Jim listened for the sound of possible other suspects, but the only voice he heard was Kasak's. From what he heard, Larry had finished searching the suspect and was about to cuff him.

"Hey man, my shoe is untied, can I fix that before you put on the cuffs?" The voice sounded young, but with a tinge of deceit in it; at least to Jim's trained ears.

"Sure, but make it quick." Jim turned the corner just as Kasak gave the young adult male the chance to tie his shoe. Without hesitating, Reed drew his weapon, trained it on the man and ordered him to freeze. He stepped closer, ordering the still bent over male to assume the standard position: hands on the wall, feet back and spread apart.

"Search him." Jim barked the order at the rookie, who clearly didn't understand what was happening.

"I already did. He's clean."

"Do it again; right this time." The bewildered probationer did as instructed. He searched the arms, down along the torso to the legs, stopping and inch or two below the knees.

"He's clean. Can I cuff him now?" Larry didn't see what the problem was and was about to suggest that the guy be allowed to tie his sneaker when Jim growled at him.

"Cover him; watch and learn." Once Kasak drew his gun and held it out to keep an eye on the suspect Jim searched the man, this time going all the way down the leg.

"He's clean?" Reed pulled up the right leg of the man's jeans, pulled out a slender silver knife, holding it up for Larry to see.

"Uh...ah…sorry sir, I didn't see it." Jim quickly cuffed the suspect, shoving him towards the rookie, who was visibility shaking.

"Scared? You should be." Jim shoved the switch blade into his back pocket. "He could have killed you."

"I'm sorry Sir."

"Don't be sorry, be scared."

"Do you ever stop being scared when you search a man?" Reed knew the answer to that one; Pete hadn't sugar coated his response to that same question when Jim asked it.

"Yeah, the day you lose sight of his hands and he kills you."

O~O~O

Pete was disappointed; it was too darned easy. What fun was there in only having to sneak past one nurse, an orderly and a guard who stayed around to flirt with a nurse? He thought at least the security guard might have presented a challenge. It was as simple as listening to the sound of the nurse's heels on the tile floor; followed by the guard's heavier footfalls. Judging the distance by how fast the sound faded was a valuable skill for a police officer. Once she was at the other end of the hall, Pete adjusted his robe to hide the bandages and left his room. The orderly did look askance at him before shrugging his shoulders. Malloy learned long ago that acting like you have the right to do something usually stops people from questioning you when you do it. By the time the nurse noticed that he was gone, Pete was nowhere in sight. Keeping a fox caged up was far harder to do than the hospital staff assumed.

Initially, Pete had intended to take a walk around the grounds, but as he entered the stairwell, his attention was drawn to a young boy, who darted up the stairs when he saw Pete.

"Whoa, hold up there." Pete held up his right hand, signaling for the kid to stay put. "Relax; I'm not going to tell on you."

The child aged eight or so, leaned over the stairway railing; jet black hair partially obscuring his eyes. He didn't back away, but he also seemed reluctant to trust Pete.

"Trust me." Pete took a step or two towards the landing between him and the boy. "If I tell someone that you aren't in your room, they'll find out that I'm not in mine."

Pete climbed the steps slowly and silently; much the same way that he approached a criminal from behind. It was a hunter's way of walking, designed to not alert his prey. He smiled at the boy, eventually holding out his free hand to the child.

"I'm Pete. Why don't we take a seat?" Malloy waited until the boy took his hand to shake it. Eventually, they both sat down on the steps.

"I'm Gary." He stared at Pete, clearly trying to figure out this odd man who promised to not turn him in. "Did you really sneak out of your room?"

"Yep, I slipped past the nurse, an orderly _and_ a guard." Pete was leaning forward, arms braced on his knees, turning to face the boy on his right.

"A guard…?" Gary seemed more excited about that fact than scared of Pete. Eight year olds rarely meet people who would admit to being guarded. "Are you a bad guy?"

"Nope, I'm a good-guy." Pete shook his head and chucked as the boy's eyes widened. "I really am a good-guy. Don't tell anyone, but I'm a cop."

"No you aren't." Gary leaned back slightly, eyeing Pete through narrowing brown eyes. "Cops don't have guards."

"Sometimes we do, especially when we're in the hospital. Usually, they are there to protect us, but this was a security guard who was supposed to keep me in my room." Pete's Irish charm seemed to extend to convincing young boys that he was, in fact, a good guy.

"Can I see your badge and gun?" Gary asked excitedly. Most kids ask to see both whenever they find out that someone was a police officer.

"I don't have them with me." He chuckled, pointing to his bathrobe. "They are locked away until I can go back to work." The kid seemed to accept that so Pete asked the question he wanted the answer to the first time he saw the boy.

"Why did you sneak out of your room?"

"You first." It seemed the boy was still somewhat suspicious of the older man.

"I snuck out because I don't like being cooped-up in a room for a long time." Considering that he had been living in Los Angeles for fifteen years, Pete still treasured the freedom his boyhood in the country gave him. When Gary squirmed instead of explaining why he left his room, Pete took a guess…

"Did you sneak out of your room because you're scared?"

"No…" The boy suddenly seemed smaller; unsure of his answer. "Kinda. Are you scared?"

"Not now." Pete chuckled and shook his head. "I'm going stir crazy from being in here too long, but I do get scared sometimes." He almost told the boy that everyone gets scared, but hesitated, not knowing what other adults might have taught him.

"Men don't get scared, especially policemen." Gary spoke with conviction; clearly someone had told him that. Pete had to tread lightly.

"Not all men are alike. It's okay to be scared. What's important for a police officer is that we don't let being scared stop us from doing what we have to do. Kinda like soldiers."

"Were you scared when you hurt your shoulder?" With the boy sitting on his right, it was impossible to prevent Gary from seeing that his left arm was in a sling.

"I was."

"Did you get shot?" It was the expected reaction. Most people never think of cops getting hurt in car accidents, fights or tripping over a garbage can. Pete hesitated only a moment before confirming the Gary's question. It was impossible to miss the excitement in the boy's eyes.

"Did a robber shoot you?" Pete shook his head.

"No. It was a man I sent to prison. He got out and wanted to get even with me." It was a simplistic version of what happened, but Pete was not about to explain Tony Johnson's act of vengeance in detail.

"That's not fair. You did your job!" Gary spoke with righteous indignation. There were good guys and bad guys to a child; for the lucky ones, the ability to see the shades of grey didn't develop until their world expanded passed the confines of their childhood homes.

"I did, but that doesn't mean that he liked being in prison. It's not a good place to be." Pete figured that he had some time to waste, so he went back to the issue at hand.

"You never did tell me why you left your room." Pete smiled at the boy to reassure him that he had no intention of telling anyone. "What scared you?"

"A bigger boy told me that his friend died when they tried to take his tonsils out." Gary shifted in his seat; did the boy mean to run?

"He just wanted to scare you. People don't die from getting their tonsils out. See?" Pete opened his mouth wide to let the boy look at his throat, even though he was sure that Gary didn't know what a tonsil looked like. He did look for them.

"Were you afraid when they took yours out?"

"I don't know. I was three years old, so I don't think I understood what was happening." Pete paused, giving the boy the once over. "But, you're a big boy and understand that you'll be okay, right?"

"Are you sure I'm gonna be okay, Pete?"

"I'm positive. They have the best doctors here. They've saved my life more than once." He stood up, holding out a hand to Gary. "Where should we go next? Your parents are probably looking for you and this really isn't a good hiding place."

"Yeah…." Gary stood, looking down at his slippers. "It's just Mom. Will you take me back Pete?"

It was obvious that the child wouldn't go back to his room by himself, but taking Gary to his room would bring attention to his own flight. With a large sigh, Pete took Gary's hand and together they went to the pediatric ward.


	24. Chapter 24

Jim was madder than the horde of wasps were when he whacked their nest out of their tree with a baseball bat. Larry Kasak almost got himself killed! Reed wasn't sure who he was madder at; the rookie or Pete. That wasn't true, if he was being honest, he was mostly angry at himself. He made the mistake of letting his guard down and it almost cost Larry his life. Until that moment in the pharmacy stockroom, Jim had never fully understood why Pete was so mad that first night they rode together. He had run off on his own and left Pete wondering where he was and what he was doing. Tonight, he felt the panic of being totally responsible for another person's life. Whether he was riding with Pete or another officer, he was always dealing with someone who bore most of the responsibility for their own lives. Jim suddenly understood that he was, among other things, Larry's only protection.

As he helped Larry write the arrest reports, Jim struggled to keep him mind on the job. He was preoccupied with the full weight of Larry's life on his shoulders. Naturally, his thoughts kept going to Pete and some of the early calls they handled together. One call in particular stood out; the arrest of James Talbert. Like Larry, Jim had missed a switchblade and almost paid for it with his life. Pete saw what Jim didn't, which is why Jim saw it when Larry didn't. He'd have to ask Pete how he learned about suspects finding excuses for reaching for the ground; had Captain Moore saved Pete from a hidden switch blade?

Reed and Kasak transported the suspect, a repeat offender named William Huglemeyer, to the central jail. It was the first time Larry had been inside the facility. He could see why Mr. Huglemeyer had resisted arrest as strongly as he had. Larry sure didn't want to spend time in that place. Jim didn't speak on the way from the jail to their unit; he was gathering his thoughts before lecturing Larry on safety, once more.

"Don't clear us yet." Jim slammed the driver's door before turning to face his rookie. "We need to get some things straight between us."

Larry Kasak opened his mouth to say something but the glare he was getting from Reed stopped the rookie mid-thought.

"What was the first thing I told you once we got into that pharmacy?"

"Uh…well sir, I, just..."

"I didn't ask you what you "just", did I? What was the first thing I ordered you to do? Come on."

"To be quiet and stay behind you." Larry didn't turn to face his training officer; instead, he was staring at his hands.

"And did you do that?" Reed was barely managing to keep his temper in check. It was the simplest of orders, yet things could have gone horribly wrong.

"No sir." The rookie spoke so softly that Jim didn't hear him, nor could he see Larry's face to know if he had answered.

"Did you stay behind me?" This time, he did raise his voice. "Look at me when I'm yelling at you!"

"No Sir", Larry gulped out the answer.

"Why not? Bear in mind, there is no right answer to that question other than _I screwed up_." Even as he said it, Jim knew that he had never yelled at anyone like he was yelling at the young officer before him, but he knew he had no choice. The words he was saying weren't truly his; they were the echo of Pete's.

"Sorry Jim...um, Reed, I screwed up." If it hadn't been so dark in the unit, Jim might have seen Larry blushing. Reed reached a hand out to touch Larry's shoulder, in an attempt to get the rookie's attention. Kasak was trembling, but Jim wasn't through; he wanted to shake that rookie so much that he would never do that again.

"You do realize that Huglemeyer would have shoved that knife into your gut without giving it a second thought?" Reed extended his index finger in order to shake it at the trembling young officer. "I won't have you dying on me!"

"I know it was stupid, but I wanted to show you how good a cop I am."

"That worked out so well, didn't it?" Sarcasm wasn't really Jim's style, but sometimes it came out anyway. "Look, Larry. I understand why you did it, but you are nowhere near ready to go off on your own. That's a heck of a way to waste fifteen thousand dollars."

"Sir?" Larry was naturally confused by Reed's non-sequitur; it had made an impression on Gus Corbin when Pete brought it up. "What's fifteen thousand dollars have to do with me trying to prove myself to you?"

"It costs the department that much to train you. Did you know that?"

"No sir."

"So, if you get yourself killed, the department is out a lot of money. The brass will want to take it out of my hide." It was stretching the truth a little, but not by much. From what Jim heard, they had put Pete through the wringer when Baxter died and Pete wasn't remotely responsible for his partner's death. "Next time you decide to risk getting killed, do it when I'm not riding with you. Got it?"

O~O~O

"They're going to be really mad." Gary, the boy Pete found in the stairwell, was dragging his feet as they neared the Pediatric ward. "Do I have to go back now? Can't we wait a little more?"

"Sorry, we both need to be getting back to our rooms." It wasn't that Pete wanted to return to his room on the fourth floor, but once the staff in Pediatrics saw him, they would demand to know where he belonged. That's assuming they hadn't already been alerted to be on the lookout for him.

"You'll be okay." Malloy kept a hand on Gary's shoulder; pushing the door open with his other one. Amazingly, he didn't close it the second he saw what was happening in the hallway. Two nurses, a security guard and an orderly were arguing over who was responsible for letting Gary escape. A rather distinguished looking older gentleman stood stone still, arms crossed, glaring at the quartet.

"Quiet! What did his mother say when you called her?" Judging by the sudden silence in the Pediatric wing, this gentleman must be Gary's doctor. "Nobody called Mrs. Meyers to tell her that her son was missing? What are you waiting for?"

"For us, perhaps?" Pete tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder as the two of them approached the squabbling group. "We met in the stairwell."

"Who, may I ask are you?" As the older man spoke to Pete, the four staff members slunk away; hoping that they were off the hook for the boy's disappearance.

"He's my friend, Pete." Gary leaned against Pete's side, drawing strength from the kind police officer. "That's doctor Green". Gary whispered to Pete, "he's gonna take my tonsils out."

"Pete Malloy. Nice to meet you doctor". Normally Pete would have offered to shake hands, but he didn't want to let go of Gary.

"Malloy, the cop?" Dr. Green gave Pete the once over, taking in the sling, robe and the IV port in his arm. "I've heard about you."

"Is that good or bad?" Pete chucked, he couldn't help but ask, even when he knew the answer would most likely be both.

"That depends on who is doing the talking. You are infamous. According to some, you are a terrible patient and more trouble than you are worth. You also have a lot of people who consider you a hero and a bit of a miracle; both because of what you did and the fact that you survived it.' Doctor Green shook his head and smiled. "Either way, I thank you for bringing my patient back."

"You're Welcome." Pete turned to face Gary. "I've got to go back to my room. You'll be okay now."

"NO!" Gary wrapped his arms around Pete's waist, holding him tighter than was comfortable considering Pete's still tender stomach. "Don't go Pete." The boy turned to the doctor. "Can't he stay with me till my mom gets here?"

"I'm sure they want your friend back in his room too." Doctor Green arched a brow and nodded slightly; a signal for Pete to agree with his statement.

"When will his mother be back?" Pete's protective nature was going into overdrive; he saw no real reason to leave Gary to the care of the nurses who lost him in the first place. "He's afraid to be alone."

"She's working. The nurses will look in on Gary until she gets here." Both men knew that the doctor was evading the question.

"Please Pete, stay with me." Pete glanced down at the boy. He could hear the tremble in Gary's voice and now saw the tears slipping down his cheeks. "Don't go."

"If it's all the same to you Doctor, I'll stay with Gary. There's no reason for me to go back to my room since all I'm supposed to be doing is sleeping." There was dogged determination in those green eyes; Pete would not be leaving Gary. "The nurse can call the fourth floor and tell them where I am."

Without waiting for permission from the doctor, Pete began leading Gary to his room. The duo paused long enough for the boy to pick a book from the hallway shelf. Doctor Green tried hard to hide the smile that watched the friends go. He knew enough about Pete, from Doctor Franks, to know that Gary was in good hands. When a nurse checked on them, Gary was in his bed with Pete sitting near the headboard, book in hand.

"Well, it must have been two – no three days ago," Chester Cricket began. I was…"

O~O~O

"Eeeeee", the mosquito buzzing around the squad car was the only sound Jim heard, besides the constant drone of the radio. Larry Kasak stared out the passenger's window at the sun as it rose above the horizon. Jim concentrated on the road but he spared a glance at the sunrise; it was a small connection to riding with Pete. Always riding shotgun, Jim had grown accustomed to measuring time by how slowly or quickly the sun seemed to rise. This morning, it seemed an eternity for that ball of light to rise even a few degrees above the skyline.

Part of Jim felt sorry for Larry; he understood. It wasn't easy to face your own mortality. The rookie was young, eager and certain in his future, but he almost threw it away because of a stupid mistake. At the Academy, the instructors had made them search each other in order to learn the proper way to take an armed suspect. The problem with that was, it wasn't real; empty guns and blunted knives hidden on the bodies of classmates. Larry had made the common mistake of growing complacent. After all, make a mistake at the Academy and you get a "do over". When Jim decided that Larry had stewed enough, he pulled their unit to the curb.

"This was the first time you saw the void, isn't it?"

The young cop continued to stare out the passenger side window but he shook his head.

"Nah, I've seen it a lot of times….in the army."

"You spent your time in the army in Germany and the rest at Ord. Just when did you see the void?" Jim was certain that Larry had never faced death; those who had actually been through it before, reacted differently.

"It's daunting isn't it; knowing that you were seconds away from dying. Staring at whatever comes next, wondering if there is something beyond this life and the guy with the knife.

"Yeah." Larry spoke softly, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice. "I know it sounds stupid, but I always thought that, if I were to die on the job, I'd go out saving someone. That I'd die a hero, like Malloy almost did."

"Don't let him hear you say that." There was a hint of a chuckle in Jim's voice, knowing how Pete would respond to that comment.

"Why not, I thought what he did was heroic. All the guys say so." Larry finally turned to look at his training officer; his face showed how much he was in awe of Pete. Reed didn't know who the "guys" were who did the talking, but it wasn't anyone who knew Pete well. He learned early on that Pete shunned the limelight; preferring to be left alone to do his job. Being called a hero never did set right with Pete.

"Whether it was or not, you are looking at it the wrong way. Wanting to die a hero is a sure way to get yourself killed doing something stupid." Reed paused a moment, desperately wanting to find the right words.

"When I was a rookie, there was a guy on my shift who held to the hero idea of police work. Run in and take the gun away from the nut, never mind being careful or planning something. For a while, I thought his way was exciting; much better than Pete's methodical approach of checking out the situation before acting." Jim shook his head, remembering how he disrespected Pete; how stupid he was to admire Wells.

"What happened? I mean, even you say that Malloy is the best….now." Larry's hesitation was long enough for Jim to notice.

"We were back-up on a man with a gun call. That officer came in with his reds blazing, jumped out of the car and ran towards the front steps of the house. He took a load of buckshot in his shoulder and lay sprawled out on the front lawn."

"Did he live?" The last bit of excitement had disappeared from the rookie's voice.

"Yeah, Malloy figured out a less dangerous way to rescue him than my initial idea of running onto the lawn after guy. It would have been a stupid way to die; for that guy or me."

"Still, you told me how Malloy got the Medal of Valor for saving your life when those guys held you hostage in the bank. So, isn't he a hero?"

"That's not the point. To Pete, what he did at the bank and in my backyard wasn't anything special; it's his job."

"But, what he did…" Whatever Larry meant to say was cut off when Jim grabbed his attention.

"What he did _is_ _our job_. You may never have to put your life on the line, but you might. The thing is to seek out all other options to accomplish your mission before deciding on a course of action. Most times, you won't be gambling with your life. However, if you do risk your life, don't do it recklessly. Don't die from a mistake.

**A/N: I apologize for the long delay in posting this chapter. Writing in the time of Covid and quarantine isn't easy. I'll try to finish this off soon. **

**~J~ **


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